


Dr. Stark Junior

by Jen27ny



Series: Was that a Star Wars reference, Dr. Stark? [4]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Peter Parker is Tony Stark's Biological Child, Peter Parker is Trying His Best, Peter Parker is a Mess, Peter has to deal with people suddenly noticing him, Sudden Fame, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark feels guilty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:55:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 28,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25696153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jen27ny/pseuds/Jen27ny
Summary: Peter wants to laugh at the joke, but he can’t. The anxiety inside him is just too much. “Did I make a mistake?” Peter asks. “And I want your honest opinion. Not one that just spares my feelings or something like that. Just-“ He takes another deep breath, hoping to calm his nerves down. It doesn’t help. Instead, he turns his head back to Tony, his eyes pleading. “Did I make a mistake?”Tony doesn’t answer immediately, which feels like a very loud 'Yes, you made a very big mistake, who told you you’re smart, because that was downright stupid'. Peter tries to reason that it’s just a stupid voice in his head, making groundless accusations, but the longer his father is silent, the more nervous he gets.~~~~~~Peter has to deal with the aftermath of letting the world know he's Tony's son.
Relationships: May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker, May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Michelle Jones, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: Was that a Star Wars reference, Dr. Stark? [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1389655
Comments: 328
Kudos: 884





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone!
> 
> A lot of you have been asking if/when I'll continue this series and if you follow me on [tumblr](https://jen27ny.tumblr.com/) you probably know that I struggled a bit to work on this part. But here it is!   
> I did make a few stylistic changes from the rest of the series. Since I posted the first part, my writing style changed and evolved, and trying to write this work in my old style was very cumbersome. At this point, I also wanna thank [ghostly-blues](https://ghostly-blues.tumblr.com/) who beta-read this chapter for me!
> 
> This work is part of a series and I strongly recommend reading the other parts before reading this. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy it! :)

**The New Stark**

**Stark Industries’ Stock On A Rollercoaster**

**Iron Man Or Iron DAD?**

**Stark’s Reckless Party Life Caught Up To Him**

**Getting A Kid As A Publicity Stunt?**

**Is Your Kid A Stark? Find Out Now!**

**There Is a New Stark In Town – For Real**

**Iron Man Told Us Not To Talk About His Son, So Here’s A Post About Puppies!**

Peter clicks on the last article, hoping that the puppies _Buzzfeed_ chose will at least distract him enough from Tony’s passive-aggressive phone call he can hear through the thin walls of the Parker apartment (Not that he really needs his super-hearing for that because a) the walls are thin and b) Tony gets loud when he gets passive-aggressive and Pepper isn’t there to reign him in).

“I would say I have been very clear on that matter on Friday. Oh, great, you got that video. Then why do I need to tell you this again? No! No interview with my son! No stalking my son’s school! No hiring a private investigator to find out more about him!”

May sighs deeply and makes a move to grab the newspaper, only to stop and realize that Tony had already thrown it away. She sighs again and takes a long sip of her coffee, probably wondering if she can just kick Iron Man out of their apartment. Considering he has a key and had installed their entire security system, it’s probably a no. Peter scrolls down on the page, mindlessly reading the definitely not-article about the press conference.

_Iron Man himself, Tony Stark, forbad everyone from talking about the shocking press conference last Friday where he announced that the kidnapped boy from the video of a criminal blackmailing Stark is his son. So, we are definitely not talking about it! How about some puppies instead?_

There is a picture of two golden retriever puppies rolling in fresh, green grass.

“Oh, do you really want to know what I’ll do if I find out you’re creeping around my kid?”

_If we were talking about that press conference – which we aren’t, this is solely about puppies – we would tell you that Stark basically threatened everyone in the room and watching if they decided to hassle his son._

“What are you looking at?” May asks, ignoring Tony’s colorful description of what exactly he would do to the poor man or woman on the other line of the phone.

“Puppies,” Peter answers, scrolling past a chihuahua puppy sleeping on his back.

“We’re not getting a puppy.”

“That’s why I need to give all my love to pictures of puppies.” A border collie puppy with his head tilted to the right side.

“No, you better think about this. Do you want to land on _Iron Man’s_ bad side? And War Machines by default? Not to mention the bad side of Pepper Potts – oh, she totally would. She’s basically just waiting for any of you idiots to make the tiniest of mistakes.”

_We’re also not telling you that Stark explained he was forced to talk about his son and expose him to the publicity because of the afore mentioned video and all of the media coverage, especially the reporters who hinted at their relationship to be the opposite of father and son._

A labradoodle puppy photographed midair, trying to catch a ball that was hitting him in the face.

_The press conference we’re not talking about was very short, no questions allowed. Stark gave no details about his kid and made very real promises that nobody would want to find out anything about him or else. He also declared the first interview with his son will be with a news company that decided not to cover this._

In front of the backdrop of the setting sun, a colorful crossbreed puppy yawned.

_Good thing we’re not reporting on it, right?_

The last picture is a dark grey pit bull puppy cuddling with an Iron Man plushie.

Suddenly, the phone is snatched out of his hands. “What did I tell you about reading any news articles?” Tony asks, still sounding pretty irked, though Peter knows it isn’t because of him.

“I wasn’t reading news articles, I was looking at puppies.”

Tony raises one eyebrow and looks at the screen, quickly scanning it. “Do I have to ban looking at puppies, too?”

“Well, if you get me a real puppy, I’ll stop looking at their pictures.”

“No puppy,” May only comments, ending the discussion successfully. Tony huffs out a breath, giving Peter his phone back before turning to the coffee machine. “And no tinkering with any of my stuff unless it’s broken.”

“May, dear, just because something isn’t broken doesn’t mean it can’t be improved.”

May shakes her head, not buying anything Tony says. “This isn’t you improving things, it’s you being nervous and needing an outlet. My coffee machine will not suffer because of it. Find something else to do.”

Peter snorts at Tony’s pout, and is rewarded with a half-serious glare. “Hush, Underoos, and eat your breakfast. Appreciate the bagels I bought.”

It’s Monday morning, and Tony let himself into their apartment at five of six in the morning with a bag full of fresh bagels in his hand, hellbent on driving Peter to school today. Because today is his first day back at school after being kidnapped – and after Tony had revealed that Peter is his son.

The press conference was a disaster – at least according to the PR department and Pepper Potts. Tony ignored close to every sentence of the already written and approved statement they had prepared beforehand. Instead, he cut right to the chase, telling everyone that the boy in the video was his son, and that he only had said that because the media hadn’t respected his or Peter’s privacy – only with a lot less child-friendly words. Then, the threats had started.

By the time Tony left the stage, Pepper looked like she was about to rip his head off. Tony had to sweet-talk and apologize to her for over an hour for her to calm some of her fiery anger. In the meantime, everyone else had already started on damage control. Peter’s private phone number had been changed, all his social media accounts had been switched to private, and literally ten lawyers had started looking through comments, searching for anyone who claimed to have more information about Peter and pouncing on them.

Through it all, Peter has been relatively calm, rather focusing on his father who had tried surviving his fiancée’s anger (who wanted to literally rip his head off and seemed angry enough to actually do it) instead of thinking about how his life had once again turned upside down in a matter of minutes.

But with every hour that brought him closer to this morning, Peter’s anxiety grew. Last night, he hadn’t slept at all, his heart beating in his throat and making him nauseous, a thousand thoughts a second had running through his mind. Over the weekend, he had been pretty shielded from the world around him, not dealing with the consequences of the press conference at all. But now? Now there is no way to escape.

Unless, of course, he could just stop going to school. Which is something Tony suggested on multiple occasions. Not that anyone really listened to that suggestion in the past, but now… Now it doesn’t sound as crazy to him as before.

The adults around him all know how nervous Peter really is, despite him trying to hide it. He waits for the very obvious _I told you so_ about him not thinking this through or making a rash decision, but they all keep quiet. It’s just as unnerving as the entire situation itself.

Peter bites off a piece of his bagel, not really tasting it and not really hungry, forcing himself to swallow it down. The anxiety inside his chest is building up again, choking him and nearly causing him to spit out the piece of bread in his mouth.

Oh God, why did he agree to this?

Suddenly, someone is squeezing his hand, and when Peter looks up, Tony gives him a small smile. “Breathe, Peter. That’s all you need to do.”

This. This is why he agreed to it. Because he wants Tony in his life, because after already losing two father-figures in his life, he is going to hold on to this one as tight as he can. Because he doesn’t want some nasty rumors to be the reason he has to keep his distance from Tony. 

Peter exhales. “Yeah, right.”

“You need to go if you want to avoid the rush hour,” May points out, her eyes straying over to the clock on the wall – the one that covers up the hole Tony shot into the wall when Clint had paid them a visit.

“Alright,” Tony announces, clapping in his hands twice and ushering Peter to his feet. “Up and at ‘em, right?”

Peter just hopes his breakfast will stay down. “Y-Yeah.”

Tony is already typing away something on his phone and walking towards the door, giving May and Peter some privacy. As soon as Peter stands up, May engulfs him in a hug. “Hey, you’re going to be fine.”

“Totally.”

“Now, it will probably be weird-“ which is the understatement of the century, “- but just know that you’re not alone in this. We all have your back, okay?”

“Then why do I have to go to school alone?”

“Don’t say that too loud or Tony will literally follow you inside and stay for the rest of the day.”

“Oh, please dare me to do it!” Tony yells from across the apartment. “I can’t wait to talk to your Physics teacher about those ridiculous assignments you got!”

It coaxes a laugh out of Peter and May, and she presses a kiss against his forehead. “I larb you.”

“Larb you, too. And you’ll be okay at work, right?” When Peter made his decision, he’d been selfishly thinking about himself, about what _he_ wanted. He hadn’t thought about May, who had been spammed with messages from her friends and co-workers all weekend long, all of them recognizing Peter from the pictures May showed them all the time.

“Of course, I will be. Besides, I’ve sure as heck covered enough of their shifts for them to owe me some ‘not-asking-questions’ favors.” Peter snorts, thinking back to all the times May had complained about covering another shift. And she had covered _a lot_ of shifts. However, before Peter gets the chance to make a comment, May squeezes his shoulders a little bit, demanding his attention. “Don’t worry about it, okay? It’ll be fine. And if push really comes to shove, you have all the back-up you need. Jim reached out to me. The entire precinct saw the interview, and they’re all ready to jump into action if you need them to. They remember the times you convinced Ben to buy donuts for everyone and not eat them himself.”

Despite all his anxiety, Peter actually laughs. “That’s good to know. An entire precinct might be less attention-grabbing than Iron Man.”

“Well, unless you want Iron Man dropping you off in front of your school with a lot of attention, we need to leave now,” Tony yells, mock-offended.

Both Parkers laugh again and May presses another kiss to his forehead before she hands him his (new) backpack. With his heart still beating in his throat, Peter steps into the small hallway, moving over to his father who is waiting by the front door. “Got everything?” Peter nods.

Tony made him a new watch after Barrett had pretty much destroyed the first one, and this one is a lot more resistant, with an automatic alarm implanted the second anyone without Peter’s fingerprints tries to take it off. Helen also gave him some medicine that will hopefully counteract the two different alien energies in his body. Nobody has really any idea what’s going to happen with them or what they may do to his body, and it had made everyone nervous. However, Peter feels pretty normal. Expect, of course, for the unnormal amount of nervousness and anxiety inside his chest.

His Spider-Man suit isn’t in his backpack, which is new. Normally, Peter always winds down by going on patrol after school, getting rid of all the energy that built up during the first half of the day before returning home to do his homework. But with so much attention on his face, they decided it’s better to not take the risk of someone following Peter after school into an alley and seeing him change into his iconic suit.

A small part of Peter can’t help but feel a bit vulnerable because of it, even though he knows it’s nonsense. The suit is just a piece of very expensive fabric, and if he really needs to defend himself, he always has his powers. Plus, Tony can (and will) be by his side in a couple of minutes if he needs him.

They climb down the seven flights of stairs in silence before taking the side entrance and walking over to the car. Peter can feel Tony’s mood darken quite a lot, and he has to bite his lip to keep the smile from spreading across his face. “I know I already told you,” Tony murmurs, not low enough that Peter wouldn’t catch it, as he manually unlocks the car, “but I really hate you. Just want to put it out there, so we both know where we stand.”

This time, Peter can’t suppress the snort as he waits while Tony unlocks and opens the passenger door from the inside of the car, leaning over from the driver’s seat. It’s not new that the billionaire talks to literally any kind of machine in his reach, no matter if there’s an AI in them or not. Peter got used to it a long time ago, and more often than not he notices that he’s started to copy that particular habit, sweet-talking the toaster into not burning the bread.

Tony got a new car. Well, not a _new_ car. This is the first thing Tony had ever bought that already had a former owner – or, in this car’s case, five owners. Three of those had sworn the car is haunted. The car itself is a couple of years older than Peter, a Ford, the dark green paint flaking off to reveal spots of rust underneath it, with too many dents in the car to count them all.

The inside of it isn’t any better. The radio is broken, probably beyond repair. The ventilation starts to rattle really annoyingly whenever you turn it up above the lowest setting. Peter’s sensitive nose picks up several smells at once – old cigarette smoke, different types of greasy food, some sweet soft drink that had probably been spilled, a hint of vomit, and a lot of magic tree air fresheners in various smells to drown out the other smells. Tony hasn’t looked under the hood yet, but judging by the noises the car makes, Peter can’t imagine it’ll be a pretty sight.

This car is the complete opposite of what Tony usually chooses in a car, and that’s the point. No paparazzi would ever see this car and think of the billionaire, who is very much known for his love of the newest, most expensive models by Audi. They hope that it’ll throw everyone off their trail for at least a little while.

“I hate you so much,” Tony keeps whispering as the engine stubbornly refuses to turn on, and instead fills the small space with a gargling sound. “So. Much.”

“C’mon, the car isn’t _that_ bad,” Peter says, but even he can’t keep a straight face while claiming it.

“I hope you appreciate this,” Tony comments, as the car finally jumps to life, and he pulls out into traffic. “I wouldn’t do this for just anyone.”

“I know. This,” Peter gently pats the glove box, not wanting the car to go crazy because he’s using too much strength, “is a true testament that you love me. I love you, too.”

“Well, you better!” Despite the somewhat harsh tone, Tony can’t hide the little smile on his face. However, it quickly disappears when the car makes yet another sound. “I’m telling you, the second I drop you off at school, I’ll take this piece of crap into the workshop and fix it. It only has to _look_ like a piece of crap, but that doesn’t mean that it actually has to _be_ one. And you sure as hell won’t get any driving lessons in this until I made some improvements.” Peter will also get driving lessons in this car, seeing that its condition can’t actually get any worse, and he already feels so much more relaxed about driving knowing he isn’t going to trash one of Tony’s expensive cars.

For a while, they drive in silence – except, of course, for the noises the car makes and Tony’s constant swearing about said car or about people who apparently don’t know how to drive properly – and slowly, Peter’s anxiety creeps back into his head. Is all of this really a good idea? Should he have thought about it more? He may have a spidey sense, but doesn’t mean he has common sense. Maybe he should’ve let Pepper make this decision. She’s so good at making decisions. What bad decisions has she ever made? Peter’s made a ton of bad decisions and-

“Hey, stop that.”

Peter whips his head around to Tony, who gives him a quick glance. “What?”

“I can basically feel you worrying.”

“Can you blame me?”

For a second, it looks like Tony wants to say something, probably some snarky comment, but he stops and gives him a longer look, taking advantage of the red light they’re currently waiting at. Peter grows squirm-ish under that look. He may had gained more confidence in their relationship, believing that Tony won’t drop him the second he sees a flaw in the boy or if Peter gets too annoying or inconvenient or is simply not cool enough, but that doesn’t mean he’s not afraid of disappointing Tony. And him being Iron Man and Peter’s hero for most of his life doesn’t make things any easier. Besides, Tony asked him a few times if he’s sure about his decision. What if he’s secretly disappointed in him and hasn’t said anything because he doesn’t want to hurt his feelings?

Man, Peter really needs to get a grip on all of this over-thinking.

“If you want to bail, we can totally do that,” Tony answers as the traffic light jumps from red to green. “I won’t tell May or Pepper. We just tell them I dropped you off and that some very urgent meeting came up or something, and then we drive to… well, I would say Disney Land, but I’m not sure if this piece of shit will actually make it that far. But, don’t worry, we’ll find another fun place.”

Peter wants to laugh at the joke, but he can’t. The anxiety inside him is just too much. “Did I make a mistake?” Peter asks. “And I want your honest opinion. Not one that just spares my feelings or something like that. Just-“ He takes another deep breath, hoping to calm his nerves down. It doesn’t help. Instead, he turns his head back to Tony, his eyes pleading. “Did I make a mistake?”

Tony doesn’t answer immediately, which feels like a very loud _Yes, you made a very big mistake, who told you you’re smart, because that was downright stupid_. Peter tries to reason that it’s just a stupid voice in his head, making groundless accusations, but the longer his father is silent, the more nervous he gets.

Oh God, is he going to throw up? It’s not like the car can smell any worse, so will it make that much of a difference?

Luckily before Peter can throw up the sorry excuse of a breakfast he had this morning, Tony starts talking. “If I’m being selfish, then I don’t think you made a mistake,” he says, voice low and steady, a lifeline Peter can hold onto. “We had two realistic options: keep quiet and meet in secret, or go public and live on like we did before – with a few changes, of course. But, Peter, I really don’t want to keep this quiet.” Tony gives him a quick smile. “I mean, I’ve been dying to tell everyone about my brilliant son who will definitely give me a run for my money one day. Before now, I’ve been holding back because it would be weird for me to brag about my intern that much, so don’t even think for a nanosecond that I regret letting the world know you’re my kid, okay?”

“Okay,” Peter echoes in a hoarse voice, the warmth that’s slowly spreading from his chest through his entire body banishing the loud, anxious voice in his head.

“What I do regret is that we couldn’t do it on our terms. But that’s absolutely not your fault, kiddo. If anything, it’s Barrett’s fault. Or the media’s, with their insatiable need to find a new story.” Tony gives him a short but meaningful look. “This entire mess is not your fault. Even if we hadn’t told them the truth, but some half-lie about you being my personal intern or whatever, they wouldn’t have stopped. Reporters – not all of them, but some – can be like animals, pouncing at the slightest hint of something that sounds like an exciting headline, something that will get them a lot of attention, and ripping everyone involved to pieces, not caring if those people deserve it or not.”

In that moment, they make a left turn and see the school – the school that is absolutely swamped. Security has been doubled (paid for by Tony, as well as the still ongoing repairs to the cafeteria, the catering service, and a _very_ hefty donation). Half of them are busy keeping the sea of reports away, the other half is shielding the students from their cameras and escorting them inside. A few of Peter’s school mates look at the cameras and screaming reporters with big eyes, but most of them try to keep their head low and hide behind the broad frames of the security personal, ignoring the attention-seeking adult around them.

Immediately, Peter starts to feel absolutely awful. It’s his fault everyone has to go through this.

“It’s not your fault,” Tony says as they drive past the front entrance and towards the back entrance.

“Did I say that out loud?” Despite him trying his best, Peter can’t tear his eyes away from the commotion, only able to look away when they’re out of sight.

“No, but you’re an open book when you start to worry.” Tony pulls the car over to the side of the road and turns the engine off.

That’s it. The moment Peter has been dreading for the last few days.

The moment Peter has to face the consequences of his actions.

His father turns towards him, sniffing soundlessly once. “Hey, you got this.”

“Sure,” he answers, his voice not one but two octaves higher. “…maybe?”

“I liked that confidence from a second ago better.” The laugh gets stuck in Peter’s throat, but the anxiety inside him spreads like wildfire, spinning one catastrophic scenario after the other.

“Is it too late to drive to Disney Land?”

Tony cocks his head to the side. “This is a trick question, right? I’m supposed to say it’s too late, so you don’t run away from this.”

“I think I’m going to throw up,” Peter says, bending forward to bury his face into his hands.

“Think of it this way, the car can’t smell any worse.”

“Oh God.”

“Hey, kid.” Tony’s hand lands on Peter’s exposed neck, this palm and fingers calloused and roughened from decades of working with his hands and oh so comforting. The simple touch slows Peter’s anxious thoughts down, and when he begins to rub his thumb over his nape, he brushes away one bad thought after the other. “You can do this. Compared to all the other stuff you did, this is nothing.”

“Spider-Man did those things, not Peter Parker.”

“I thought we already had the conversation about Peter Parker being the real superhero.” Peter takes another deep breath, doing every technique he knows to keep himself as calm as possible. “Look at me, Peter.” He does look up, right into Tony’s face, which is sporting a small but sincere smile. “I know this is scary. People will talk. They will point at you. They will suddenly start talking to you and act like you’re their best friend. People will change how they behave around you, for the better and the worst. But nothing of what they say matters, because you know what’s true, okay?” Somehow, Peter manages to nod. “Do you know what’s true?”

Peter shakes his head.

“You’re my son. I love you, and I’m so proud of you. Nothing that anyone says will change that. That is the truth, and that’s the only thing you need to remember.” Tony looks at him, eyes deadly serious like he’s trying to burn the meaning of the words into Peter’s head until he finally accepts them.

Slowly, the anxiety inside him stops spreading. Breathing gets easier again.

“Okay,” Peter finally croaks out. “I love you, too, Dad.”

The teen isn’t quite sure if Tony is aware of the grin that appears before he leans over and presses a quick kiss against his forehead. “You got this.”

“Yeah. Totally.”

“That’s the spirit.”

Peter doubts he has the spirit, but he grabs his backpack and climbs out of the car. For a second, he just stands there, staring at the building he spent already so many days in, knowing it will never be the same again once he steps inside.

_But it’s a good change_ , a voice at the back of his head says. Yes, this is good change. However, that doesn’t mean it isn’t scary. Channeling his inner Spider-Man, Peter takes a deep breath. He got this. He can do this. Piece of cake. As long as his breakfast stays down and he doesn’t throw up in the middle of the class.

Looking back, he gives Tony a shaky smile. “Talk to you later?”

Tony’s smile is beaming. “Of course.”

Then, Peter steps towards the school, heart beating in his throat.   
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who left comments, kudos and bookmarks, I really appreciate them! ❤
> 
> And a big thank you to [ghostly-blues](https://ghostly-blues.tumblr.com/) who beta-read this chapter for me!
> 
> Enjoy :)

Peter isn’t using the official back entrance of the school because the problem is that the official back entrance is, well, official, which means story-hungry journalists or people who are hoping to make a quick buck by selling a photo of Tony Stark’s son are lurking around.

Instead, Peter walks toward a half-hidden door that used to be an emergency exit before the school got renovated a few years ago. He’s completely tense, anxious that someone might notice him, but even his trusty spidey sense is silent, so he hopes he makes his way unnoticed. Once he reaches the door, he knocks on it in a special pattern – matching the chorus of Black Sabbath’s Iron Man, which, of course, had been Tony’s idea.

Less than three seconds later, the door opens, revealing a mean and intimidating looking security man. Trying his best to swallow the big lump in his throat, Peter gives him a shaky smile. The man doesn’t smile back, but he steps to the side nevertheless, letting Peter enter the school. Stepping inside, Peter looks over his shoulder one last time to catch a glimpse of the green car from Hell and sees Tony giving him a thumbs up and a toothy grin.

Then, the door shuts.

A new wave of nausea hits Peter.

He is very aware of the guard’s stare practically burning right through his skull.

Peter doesn’t care if the car would make it right now, he would walk all the way to Disneyland if it meant he could escape this.

But that’s not an option. It was _his_ decision to tell the world the truth about Tony and him, and now he has to face the consequences. It’s the adult thing to do.

(Is it too immature to point out that Peter isn’t, in fact, an adult?)

 _I can do this_ , he reminds himself, taking a deep breath and putting one foot in front of the other, _I’m Spider-Man. I can do this. Easy peasy._

As soon as he steps into the hallway that is filled with his peers, Peter realizes that it’s anything but easy peasy. Peter Parker has been pretty much invisible for most of his life even after he gave the answer that ultimately won them the AcaDeca championship or after he came back to school with no glasses and abs, no one really ever spared him a second glance.

After he got hit by that alien energy for the first time, that changed, of course, because it’s pretty much impossible to ignore the guy who got yeeted through their cafeteria. But even that seemed to get boring and the student’s attention shifted to the briefly returned Rogues, having a make-shift cafeteria on the football field, agreeing how much better the food is, and the stress of their looming finals.

However, after getting kidnapped and drugged up by the same lunatic who blew up their cafeteria, and then being revealed to be the secret son of one of the most famous and influential people walking on the earth right now?

Nobody will forget him now.

It’s almost like a bad movie – Peter steps into the hallway and every head in the corridor turns towards him, each and every one falling silent. Really silent, because even with his super hearing, all Peter hears are their hitched breaths and heartbeats.

The urge to run to Disneyland has never been stronger. When he starts walking, though, it’s not away from the school and the city and even the tiniest of civilizations, but down the hallway, doing his best to keep his head held high. His head doesn’t seem to quite agree with his plan, and he ends up looking downward, eyes fixed on the ground before him.

Then, the whispering starts, and it’s worse than the silence. It’s worse, too, than the time a few weeks ago, because back then he couldn’t really hear them – now, thanks to his enhanced hearing, he hears everything.

_“What is he even still doing here? Shouldn’t he be at some fancy school now? Or, like, MIT? He’s smart enough for that.”_

_“I swear that’s exactly Iron Man’s nose. No,_ look _! I tell you, it’s the same!”_

 _“I always knew there was something about him, but I never would’ve guessed_ that _!”_

_“If Tony Stark is his father, why did he quit robotics club?”_

_“That’s what you’re wondering about? Why is he still wearing those crappy shoes?”_

_“Maybe he really does know Spider-Man, too. It’s not that unlikely, isn’t it?”_

_“Hey, should we invite him to that party?”_

_“Do you think he’s going to change his name?”_

_“Guess we know who the next CEO of Stark Industries will be.”_

_“How much do you think a photo of him is worth? Just out of interest, of course.”_

_“Man, I thought my old man is bad, but imagine being the son of Tony fucking Stark, Merchant of Death.”_

It takes all of Peter’s willpower to not react to any comments, especially those that are less than nice about Tony. Peter is used to hearing bad things about himself, thanks to Flash (who loves nothing more than to point out his every little flaw), but hearing bad things about Tony is different. They don’t know the real Tony, they don’t know the man even the media doesn’t see, the man behind the masks made of iron and sunglasses and bright smiles. How dare they judge him without even knowing him?

His father’s words ring in his ears. _But nothing of what they say matters, because you know what’s true, okay?_ Peter knows the truth, and that has to be enough. It doesn’t really lessen the urge to scream at everybody that they have absolutely no idea who Tony fucking Stark is, but it’s enough to hold his tongue.

Peter sees a movement out of the corner of his eye – MJ, standing by her locker and taking a few books out of it. In need of anything to distract himself from the chatter around him – he’s ignoring the pull in his chest right now, because that pull can literally mean _anything_ , don’t jump to any conclusions, he doesn’t, like, _like_ her or anything, shut up – he walks over to her. “Hey, MJ,” he greets her with a small smile on his face.

She gives him an almost bored glance, like talking to him while she gets her books is some inconvenience. He thinks he sees a shadow of… something flash across her eyes, but it’s gone before he can really investigate it. “Idiot,” she greets him with a nod. For quite some time now, Peter thinks of the word _idiot_ more as a nickname than an insult (at least if she says it) – but right now, he can’t decide if she means it as a nickname, too.

A tense silence – one that is watched by everyone around them – stretches between them. “So, uh,” Peter rakes his brain for something to say, “how was your weekend?”

“Probably not as interesting as yours.” Slamming the door of her locker shut, she turns towards him, face as nonchalant as always.

Peter can’t even pretend he’s only imagining the judgmental tone in her voice.

Somehow, that stings a lot more than he anticipated.

His cheeks start to heat up, and he forces himself to ignore the whispers around him, turning them into a static background noise. “Actually, my weekend was pretty boring. I was basically holed up at my home the entire time.”

“Can’t imagine why.”

“I’m sorry,” he blurs out, because apologizing is what he always does in situations like these.

MJ squints. “About what exactly?” Peter doesn’t have an answer. He didn’t really expect to be asked what for. As he stands frozen, feeling very much like a deer caught in headlights, MJ continues to stare at him. “Don’t feel bad about not telling me. If I took away one thing from Stark’s press conference, it’s that he didn’t want to tell anyone and keep it a secret. Telling anyone in High School a secret is never a smart move, and I’m surprised Ned managed to not blurt it out.”

“How do you know Ned knows?”

“You losers tell each other everything,” she answers with a shrug. “Don’t worry. I’m not mad.”

“You look mad.” The words are out of his mouth before he can think about if they’re actually rude or not, but to his surprise, MJ seems to deflate a bit.

“I’m not mad at you,” she says, voice low to make it harder for anyone around them to listen in. “I’m frustrated, because I didn’t make the connection. I had a different theory why you know Stark and why you’re close.” She shakes her head a little bit, like she physically needs to shake it out of her head in order to forget it. “Now, it just seems insane.”

“What was your theory?”

MJ gives him another stare before she turns around and walks to her first class, leaving Peter standing in the hallway by himself (if you don’t count the endless staring students around him) with his heart beating twice as fast for mysterious reasons.

When Peter reaches his own locker, Ned is already waiting for him, and a part of Peter wants to cry in relief. “Hey,” he says, so grateful to see his friend.

“Dude, this is crazy!” Ned’s eyes are so big, Peter thinks they might fall out of his head any second. “ _Everyone_ is talking about you.”

“Believe me, I know,” Peter can’t help but scoff as he opens the metal door.

“This is so insane. Even Julius Matthews is talking about you. But, like, not in a good way.”

He whips his head around, wishing he just misheard his friend. “For real?”

Ned shatters his hopes by nodding. “Yeah, man. He’s _pissed_.”

Julius Matthews is in the year above them and crowds of students part like the Red Sea when he so much as looks in their general direction. He’s very popular, not only because he’s handsome (and he’s very aware of it), one of Midtown’s best athletes, and his grades are always in the top five percent the school, but because he’s rich. Filthy rich. So rich he could crash his car into Mr. Thompson’s car out of fun and then throw some money at him with the words _buy a new one – but this time an expensive one_.

But Tony Stark is richer. And that means Peter is richer – not that anyone cares that Peter pretty much rejects every single penny Tony tries to give him. Not only that, but Peter isn’t part of the top five percent of the school, but part of the top one percent. And to put the cherry on top, after his spider bite, Peter became a lot more athletic, even though he tries to hide it.

Without a doubt, Julius feels like Peter is threatening his alpha status. Which is a problem, because Julius loves nothing more than to prove that he is the best of the best, and he is (for the lack of a better word) mean. _Very_ mean. Flash’s taunts are nothing compared to him, and problems like these are the last thing Peter needs right now.

“Great,” Peter sighs, grabbing his books, “I just put a target on my back.”

“Do you really think he’ll do something? I mean, _Tony Stark_ is your father. Who would dare piss Iron Man off?”

“According to Tony, pretty much every journalist, Secretary Ross, Justin Hammer, two members of his board, and that one barista who always gets his order wrong.”

Ned chuckles. “Imagine being a barista and purposefully getting a superhero’s order wrong just to piss them off.” All Peter manages to do is a weak smile. “But on the bright side, Flash has been really quiet.”

“I would rather have Flash running his mouth about me than be Julius’ new target.” With a soft bang that does nothing to drown out the whispers around him, Peter closes his locker. He has a feeling this will be a very long day.

* * *

It’s something of a miracle that Peter actually manages to pay some attention to his classes, because while all the teachers at least pretend to be totally unbothered by suddenly having the son of a multi-billionaire sitting in their class, the rest of the students can’t forget it. Peter even gets the feeling they don’t _want_ to forget it. There’s a constant whispering going on around him and they watch him with eagle eyes, commenting on every single thing he does, even if it’s simply twirling his pen between his fingers, flipping a page in his book, or bouncing his leg to get rid of the anxious feeling inside him. The only teacher who manages to have them at least somewhat under control is Mrs. Warren.

But as much as they love to talk about him, nobody actually talks to him, like they’re afraid Iron Man might materialize out of thin air – until lunch, that is.

Even on the football field that had been repurposed as their make-shift cafeteria with dozens of tables standing on the grass (the coaches weren’t too happy about not having a field for their teams to train on, but Pepper, naturally, thought about that, too, and arranged some other venue for them) Peter and Ned had claimed a table at the back. To Peter’s immense surprise, MJ’s already sitting there, her face buried in a worn-out book – but there, at their table.

“Hey, MJ,” he greets her again, because the swirling feeling in his stomach won’t let him not say anything, and the alternative would’ve been _your hair looks very pretty with the sun hitting it like this, can I take a photograph of it?_ Like usually, she nods in their general direction, acknowledging their existence before returning to her book while Peter and Ned both take a seat.

Peter has just taken the second bite of his food when someone suddenly appears in front of their table. “Can I sit here?” Lydia Friedman asks, holding a tray with her food and smiling down at them. For a moment, Peter can only blink. Lydia is very much on the upper part of the social status food chain, and until now they haven’t really said anything other than hi to each other, even though they have English and History together. She’s a genuinely nice person – as far as Peter can tell – and part of the cheerleading squad, but her real popularity comes from her uncle who is an ambassador and loves to invite her to wherever he’s currently staying at.

Ned is looking from Lydia to Peter and back. Out of the corner of his eye, Peter thinks he sees MJ freeze, her eyes not moving along the page anymore. Lydia is calmly waiting for his reply.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” he says, gesturing for her to sit down – because what else was he supposed to say? No? It’s not his table, he can’t control who sits where, and if she wants to sit with them, probably making a sizable dent in her reputation, then it’s her decision to do that.

If Tony were here, he would laugh at Peter’s naivety.

“Thanks!” With a bright smile, she sits down and starts eating her pasta. Peter, on the other hand, has a very difficult time concentrating on his own lunch, a knot of anxiety making it impossible to even think about swallowing down anything that isn’t a liquid. “So, how was your day?”

“Uh, good,” he lies, because _good_ really isn’t the word he would use to describe this. “How-How was your’s?”

“It was great, thanks for asking!” Peter honestly wonders what kind of life a student must have to call a school day _great_. Maybe popularity really does make all the difference. However, before he can further ponder her answer, Lydia is talking again. “So, you’re on the Academic Decathlon team, right?”

“Yeah, I am.” Peter is hyper-aware of Ned still frozen in shock beside him and MJ still just staring at her page.

“I want to join another club next year to boost up my college applications,” she says, keeping her tone light and cheery, “and I thought about joining your team. So?”

“So?” Peter repeats, because, seriously, what else does she expect him to say?

Apparently, she expects him to say literally anything but _so_. “Do you think that would be a good idea?”

Peter has no clue what to say. Why is she asking him this? Did he suddenly become the expert for perfect college applications? Should he expect more students to come to him and ask him about joining different clubs? In his need for help, he glances over to Ned, but he seems just as clueless as Peter feels.

“I-I mean, if you’re into it,” he eventually says, because Lydia is looking at him expectantly. Suddenly, he has a flash of genius. “But if you want to join, you should probably talk to MJ. She’s our team captain.” He points to his friend on the other side of the table.

MJ doesn’t look pleased that he brought her up. Her eyes jump from Lydia to Peter, and he suddenly has the urge to apologize or do something to right the mistake he seemed to have made. However, before he can open his mouth, MJ actually closes her book, one finger stuck between the pages, giving Lydia more attention. “And how can you improve our team? They usually don’t ask questions about cheerleading.”

If Peter wouldn’t know better, he would almost describe MJ’s behavior as nasty. But that doesn’t make any sense. 

Lydia laughs. “That’s probably true. But I’m also pretty good at geography. My uncle took me to a lot of places,” she adds, the last bit directed at all of them, like they really need a reminder who she is or what her Instagram page looks like.

“We already have a geography expert.”

“But isn’t Sally leaving the team next year?” Peter throws in as the thought suddenly flashes across his mind.

She got an internship position at her dream law firm, and her hours clashed with their Decathlon meetings. They all begged her to stay on the team, arguing that they could change the schedule, but she still refused. Even though MJ hadn’t said anything about it, Peter knows she’s stressing about finding a replacement for her. Flash is their alternate, yes, but he isn’t a Geography expert (which he admitted himself).

Lydia could fill Sally’s spot. It’s the perfect solution.

Which is why Peter doesn’t understand why MJ looks at him with daggers in her eyes. He thought she would be happy about it.

Why does it feel like he’s made a big mistake?

MJ’s eyes move from Peter to Lydia and back again. Then, she stands up, grabbing her book. “Whatever. We can talk about this next year.” With those words, she turns around, walking away from them.

“What about your food?” Peter asks, uselessly pointing at her half-eaten plate.

“Lost my appetite,” she answers, not turning back. “Industrial processed food isn’t good for you, anyway. They use too many preservatives and high fructose corn syrup.”

Before Peter can point out that Pepper had been in charge of finding a caterer, and that meant that she definitely made sure to feed a school full of growing teenagers the healthiest food possible, MJ is already gone, her posture rigid.

A knot forms in Peter’s stomach. He tried to help her solve her geography expert problem – why is she so mad?

He continues to wonder what exactly he did to make her mad, but neither Lydia or Ned seemed to think about it too much. A part of Peter expects Lydia to leave as soon as she asked about possibly joining the Decathlon team, but she doesn’t.

Instead, she continues their conversation, asking about homework assignments and projects. When Ned lets it slip that they build Lego models in their spare time – which isn’t really that much of a secret to be honest – Lydia doesn’t laugh at them, and says she used to love to play with Legos, too (but Peter gets the feeling that it was a long time ago). However, she’s genuinely nice and easy to talk to, not at all the stereotypical cheerleader-cliché, and Peter really thinks she would get along great with the rest of the Decathlon team. At the end of their lunch break, she invites them to her party over the weekend and returns to her friends.

Apparently, Lydia’s decision to talk to Peter encouraged everyone else to talk to him, too. It’s not like people suddenly start to swarm him, but some of his classmates – even some who he’s never exchanged a single word with – start greeting him in the hallway. The ones who sit around him during class try to stir up a conversation. It’s a bit confusing, but he keeps Tony’s warning from the morning in mind and just politely answers their questions.

Some people start calling him Stark. He’s not quite sure who started that or why they’re doing it. Maybe they just don’t know what his real name is. Maybe they think Peter will change his name to Stark. Maybe they don’t care that he’s a Parker, too.

Peter doesn’t know how to feel about that, but one thing he does know: he doesn’t like it.

By the time his final class is over, Peter couldn’t be happier to finally get to go home.

“And you’re gonna ask him?” Ned asks for the umpteenth time, as Peter is about to slip out of the secret exit he already used this morning. His friend has to use the front entrance, so this one will go unnoticed as long as possible.

Somehow, Peter manages to suppress a sigh. “I will, I promise. See you tomorrow.” He hears Ned’s reply before he slips out of the door. The small space before him is empty, and Peter takes a second to just… be.

To call this day exhausting would be an understatement. And the worst part? Peter knows it’ll get worse. Sighing deeply, Peter sets on foot in front of the other, hoping that nobody will notice him on his way home. Somehow, he’d actually managed to talk Tony into not picking him up (he’s not quite sure how he managed to convince him, but it’s probably because Tony actively tries to spend as little time as possible in his _new_ car), and now he’s grateful for it. A little peace and quiet and anonymity for himself.

Peter takes all but three steps off the school premise when his phone starts to ring.

Well, so much for a little peace and quiet.

“Did you track my phone and literally wait until I left the school ground to call me?” Peter asks Tony instead of greeting him.

“No, of course not.” He pauses. “But I did ask Happy how long you usually take to leave school and added a couple of minutes to it.”

“More like one and a half.”

“That means minute _s_ , as in plural, is still correct.” Peter snorts and he immediately feels a little bit more normal thanks to his usual banter with Tony. However, that feeling is short-lived, too. “So? How was your first day? And don’t you dare say fine, I know it wasn’t.”

“And how do you know that?”

“Because I know what it’s like to be the new famous kid at school. Or anywhere, to be honest. It’s never fine. And now out with it.”

“It was weird,” Peter confesses, strolling down the sidewalk, further and further away from the waiting mass of reporters. “First people were staring and talking _about_ me, not _with_ me, and then they started talking with me and it was even weirder.” Peter decides not to mention the calling-him-Stark-thing, because he hasn’t figured out what he thinks about it yet, and he doesn’t want Tony to misinterpret whatever he’s saying. Because just like Peter, Tony has his own insecurities about their relationship.

For a short while, Tony doesn’t say anything. Eventually, he sighs. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I’m still sorry you had to go through this. And I wish I could say something about how the first day is the worst day or that it’ll get better, but that would be a lie. Today was probably the calmest day for a very long while, buddy.” He pauses again. “And it will get worse. It always gets worse.”

Peter takes a deep, shaky breath. His anxiety is already building up again, making his muscles tense up and shrinking down his lungs’ capacity to hold air. “Well, thanks for that pep talk,” he tries to joke, but he knows it falls flat.

Tony is still gracious enough to snort. “If you need any more crappy pep talks, I’m your guy.”

In that moment, Peter’s phone vibrates a couple of times, and he takes a look at his screen to find a couple of texts from Ned.

**Ned Leeds**

_Ask him_

_Did you ask him yet???_

_What did he say?_

_Did he say yes?_

_Peter_

_Have you asked him?_

Sighing and knowing there’s no way around it, Peter moves the phone back to his ear. “Hey, can I ask you something? And you can totally say no.”

“Sure. Wait. Is this one of those questions where you need me to say no just to have an excuse not to do something? I heard that’s a thing. Is that really a thing? We should have a special code for that, just so I don’t screw it up.”

Peter can’t help but smile at that. “Yes, that is a thing, but no, this is not one of those questions.”

“Then shoot, kid. What is it?”

“Remember how, like, every news channel and talk show that exists are trying to get an interview with us?”

“I distantly remember hearing something about that, yes. What about it?”

“What would you say if we do our first interview with my school’s news channel?”

Just before PE, Ned ran over to Peter, practically vibrating with excitement. Betty had asked him about the entire interview situation and if Ned thought it would be possible if they could interview Peter and Tony. Ned, who’s been nursing a crush on Betty for the past couple of weeks, had immediately promised to ask.

His best friend was so excited about having an excuse to talk to Betty that Peter didn’t voice his confusion about Betty asking Ned instead of Peter herself. They’ve talked before, she even interviewed him before after they’d won that one big AcaDeca competition (his part had been cut because he stuttered too much), so it’s not like they don’t know each other.

Is this how it’s going to be like from now on? Will his friends and classmates be too intimidated to talk to him? Surely they must know that just because his parentage has changed doesn’t mean _he_ has changed.

Pushing away all those questions that leave a burning trail behind in his chest, Peter concentrates on Tony’s musing humming. “You know what? I like that idea.”

“Really?” Somehow, Peter hasn’t suspected that answer.

“Yeah, really. Actually, I think it’s a great idea. It’s a setting you’re familiar with, you know the hosts, and it has a connection to you. It’ll help you relax.”

“But what about all the other major news companies? Won’t it be, like, bad press?”

“Peter, there’s no such thing as bad press. Actually, no, I just remembered my twenties and the better part of my thirties, there _is_ such a thing as bad press. But this idea is as far from bad press as it can get. People will love it. It has a kinda nostalgic feeling to it, don’t you think? Like staying true to your roots.”

“But… their videos are _bad_.”

“They can’t be _that_ bad.” Peter doesn’t say anything, and he hears Tony ordering FRIDAY to find some videos from Midtown’s news channel. A few seconds later, Tony’s laugh booms through the phone. “Oh, it _is_ that bad. I love it. Let’s do it.”

“Really?”

“Yes, I love this idea.” His father hesitates. “Unless you don’t want to do it, of course. I just think you might be more comfortable doing your first interview with your classmates instead of some stuck-up interviewer. Besides, most of the major news channels have already talked about the press conference, so they’re all out of the race. Midtown News hasn’t done anything on that, as far as I know. So? What do you say?”

A part of Peter hates the idea of doing the interview with his school’s news channel, which is known to be notoriously bad (especially considering they’re a school known for their science and _technology_ schedule), because he just knows it’ll be embarrassing. But doing an interview with someone he only knows from seeing them on the TV in a professional studio? He hates that idea even more. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah, okay. Let’s do this.” Another thought crosses Peter’s mind. “Hey, can we let Ned handle the entire communication thing? He, uh, kinda has a crush on one of the news anchors. Don’t tell him I told you, he would never speak to me again.”

“Relax, I won’t snitch you out. And I think helping Ned score a date is the least I can do for him after all the times he helped you out.” 

For the rest of his way home, they talk about all kinds of stuff. Most of the time is dedicated to Tony’s hatred towards the car from Hell (“You won’t believe me, but I honestly cried when I looked under the hood. I told FRIDAY to play that one song, what’s it called again?” “Please tell me you’re joking.” “Would I ever joke about that? But, honestly, I don’t know if we can even call it a car. At this point, I won’t even be surprised if I suddenly get a skin rash from touching it.”), but they talked about literally anything as long as it had nothing to do with reporters or interviews or sudden fame.

However, despite all the jokes and Tony’s efforts to make him feel normal, Peter doesn’t feel normal when he finally reaches the apartment door. He feels drained and pretty annoyed at the prospect of doing this for, well, the rest of his life. The only way to escape this would be to buy a remote island and live there, but with his Parker Luck, even the animals will know who he is.

“May, I’m home!” Peter yells as he toes his shoes off and slides his backpack off his shoulder.

“I’ll be with you in a second, sweetie!” May yells back from the kitchen, cursing underneath her breath as something burns.

Overcome with the sudden urge to just lay down and never move ever again, Peter flops down on the couch, his face landing on one of the embroidered pillows. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the little bowl on the table that is always filled with various types of candy in case visitors stop by or they are too lazy to get up while watching TV. Telling himself that he deserves a treat, Peter reaches inside the bowl, searching for something that can fulfill his sudden craving for chocolate, and pops the candy in his mouth.

A few seconds later, May appears in his field of vision. “So? How was it?” Peter only groans into the pillow (careful to not accidentally drip chocolate on it). May laughs, which, y’know, seems a little bit cruel in Peter’s eyes. “That bad?”

“To be honest, I imagined it would be worse,” Peter sighs as he sits up. “But I think that only means it’ll be worse some other day. Yay. Can’t wait.”

May sits down next to him, pulling his head against her collarbone in a way that always makes him feel like he’s six years old again – he decides he’s allowed to feel like a child for a moment. “You wanna talk about it?”

“Everyone was just so weird. Like, they were talking _about_ me, and then people started to talk _to_ me who I’ve never talked to before, and MJ was acting weird. All of it made me really anxious.”

“MJ was acting weird? Weird how?”

Peter recalls his interactions with MJ, adding a three minutes rant about why he can’t understand why she was so angry at lunch. He found the perfect solution for her problem, hadn’t he? He thought she would be happy about it, not angry.

To his frustration, May starts to laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Peter asks, leaning back with a pout on his lips.

“Peter, MJ wasn’t angry, she was jealous.”

“Why would she be jealous?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because a pretty, popular girl tried to get close to you by joining your team?”

Peter’s face feels like it’s on fire. Which, of course, means absolutely nothing. “MJ d-doesn’t like me like that, May!”

“Well, even if she doesn’t, she can still be jealous. You told me she said she has trouble making friends, right? Maybe she’s just jealous that it’s so easy for someone else. And maybe she’s afraid that she might lose you – even as a friend – now that more people are trying to get your attention.”

Peter lets May’s words sink in for a moment. It doesn’t sound that far-fetched – which immediately makes him question why he hadn’t thought about that before. MJ did tell him that she’s not good at making friends. Maybe she really does think Peter can only have a limited number of friends, and that he’s going to kick her out when someone new comes along.

The question is, how does he fix what he’s done?

He gets the idea during his patrol when he sees a group of what looks like college students collecting some donations for a charity organization. For the rest of his patrol and about an hour after that in which he pretends to do his homework, Peter works on his plan. It might work. He hopes it’ll work. He doesn’t want MJ to distance herself from him.

Because, at the end of the day, Peter isn’t stupid. He knows what his fast heartbeat and his stammering and his warm cheeks and his smiles around MJ mean – he’d gone through all of that before with Liz. Even though he tries to convince himself that he doesn’t have a crush on MJ, he knows he does.

But having a crush on MJ feels so much more intimidating that having a crush on Liz, because Liz was so nice. She hardly said a bad word about anyone and always tried to make others feel better. Back then, Peter knew that the worst that could happen if he confessed his feelings to Liz was her gently letting him down.

MJ, however? If he’s lucky, she’s going to let him down gently. She loves to call people out on their bullshit on a good day. What is she going to do when he tells her how he feels about her? Yes, he hopes she won’t laugh in his face (he can only dream about her having similar feelings), but Peter knows it’s unlikely.

In a way, this situation could be the solution to all of his problems. If MJ really decides to distance herself from him, he could maybe get over his feelings.

And he hates that thought.

He doesn’t want to get over his feelings. Not without trying, at least.

“Peter and Spider-Man are the same person,” he says, trying to give himself a little pep talk as he scrolls through the contacts in his phone, finally stopping at _Michelle Jones_. “Peter can be brave, too.”

Despite his claim to be brave, his thumb hovers over the call button for about a minute before he finally presses it. His heart beats in his throat and his hands get so sweaty that Peter is glad for his stickiness or the phone might have fallen out of his hand.

After ringing for about ten seconds – which feels like an eternity and has Peter already doubting every single decision he’s ever made – MJ picks up. “Peter?”

“Y-Yeah,” he says, clearing his throat to get rid of the lump in there. “It’s me. Peter. Parker.”

Oh God, he already messed up, didn’t he? Can he just hang up? Would that be too weird?

Before he can decide what to do, she’s already talking. “Why are you calling me?”

Peter takes a deep breath. He’s Spider-Man. He’s brave. He can do this. “I wanted to ask you about something.”

“Okay?”

“So, you know how Tony Stark is my father?”

For a moment, she doesn’t say anything. “Is this some kind of joke?”

“No, it’s not. Anyway, he gave me all this money and now I have a bank account full of money that I need to spend, and-”

“I’m hanging up now.”

“No, wait, please! I want to donate it!”

Peter has been thinking about what to do with the money for a while now, but he has no clue what to do. Well, that’s not entirely true. He knows he wants to donate it because everything else would seem kind of selfish to him, but he has no idea where to start with that. What organization should he donate to? What’s the best way to do it? There are so many organizations out there, and he’s read articles about charity organizations not being as charitable as they seem. Just thinking about it all gives Peter a headache.

Eventually, MJ says: “Go on.”

Peter exhales. “Well, as I said, I have this money and I don’t wanna keep it, but Tony said I can spend it however I want, and I’ve decided to donate it. But I honestly have no clue where or how to start.” His hands start to get extra sweaty, and he wonders how he’s even able to form a single word with the way his heart is beating. “I remembered that you did this project on charity organizations at the beginning of the school year. About which one’s are more of a show and which ones are actually helping the community. So, uh,… I thought maybe you could give me some tips?”

It’s like killing two birds with one stone. On the one side, Peter actually gets to work on the entire donating-the-money-situation, and on the other side, this will hopefully show MJ how much he values her opinion. Because he really does.

“You want… my help with his?” she asks.

“Yeah, of course. I don’t know anyone better to help me with it.” Maybe Pepper, but Peter isn’t going to say that. For a long moment, he hears nothing from the other end of the line. “MJ? Are you still there?”

“Yeah, I am,” she answers, clearing her throat once. “Sure, I can help you with it. I can make you a list of some organizations that are pretty good.”

“Thanks, that would be awesome.”

There’s another long pause.

“Or I can tell you about them now,” she says hesitantly. Peter’s heart beats so fast, he thinks it might burst through his ribcage. “If you’ve got some free time, of course.”

“Yeah, no, totally. I have tons of time. Nothing to do at all,” Peter says, ignoring all the homework he has to do, and the smile on his face as MJ starts to talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed it :) There's a bit more happening in this one, even though there's a bit less Irondad in this. However, Tony will show his protectiveness in the next chapter, I promise!
> 
> Speaking of the next chapter, it will probably take a little longer for me to finish it. Tomorrow, my internship starts, so I'll be a lot more busy for the next to weeks, and when I posted the first chapter, I already had about 2/3 of the second one done, but right now I have 200 words exactly for the next chapter, and I expect it to be around the same length as this chapter. So, please, be a bit patient with me! ❤
> 
> And just like always, I would love to read about your thoughts or theories about what might happen next. So, if you enjoyed this, why not leave a comment? ;)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! :) 
> 
> Thank you to all of you who left comments and kudos and bookmarks, those really make my day! ❤
> 
> And thank you to [ghostly-blues](https://ghostly-blues.tumblr.com/) for being my beta-reader! 
> 
> Enjoy! :)

Peter immediately knows that this day at school will be different.

“Hey, Peter!”

“What’s up, man?”

“Hi, how are you doing?”

“Yo, Stark, can I get a picture with you?”

He does his best to move through the hallways drawing as little attention as possible, but that is, frankly, absolutely impossible. Seeing that he can’t ignore the people suddenly obsessed with him, Peter politely answers them – even if he literally has no idea who 90% of them are and he’s pretty sure they didn’t know who he is until a few days ago – and declines the surprisingly many photo requests.

Being called _Stark_ stings, and that annoys Peter. He’s not ashamed to be Tony’s son – if anything he’s still afraid of Tony being ashamed of him. But he’s Peter _Parker_. He has been for his whole life. And, yeah, okay, the Parker side of his family isn’t as famous as the Stark side, but he’s _proud_ to be a Parker. If people suddenly start calling him Stark, it feels like they’re erasing a part of him. That’s what stings.

And what annoys Peter is that he’s so affected by it. He’s aware of why he’s feeling like this, he knows that pretty much none of them think twice about calling him Stark – he’s praying to Thor that Stark won’t turn into his nickname or anything, that people are just using last names like they do with each other normally – because they don’t understand what’s going on inside him. Which, honestly, annoys him even more because have _none_ of these supposedly gifted students ever heard of empathy? Can nobody relate to him? Not even the tiniest bit?

Suffice it to say, there are a lot of reasons why Peter would rather spend the entire day waiting in the car from Hell still sitting in Tony’s workshop than being at school. There are only two reasons why Peter didn’t pretend to be sick (maybe even throw in something that sounds like the alien energy is giving him some trouble, because that would definitely buy him at least a few days of rest) and one of them was that he doesn’t back down from a fight.

At the end of the hallway, he sees Ned opening his locker to get some books, and Peter can literally feel the weight of a collapsed warehouse lift off his shoulders. Ignoring the boy next to him who asks him for yet another picture, Peter swiftly darts through the crowd until he reaches his friend. “If anyone asks me for another picture, I’m gonna lose my mind.”

“Dude, they’re even talking to me!” Ned fake-whispers back with enormous eyes. Peter can’t quite tell if his friend is happy about his newfound fame or not. “Do you know how many new Facebook requests I got yesterday?”

“Who even uses Facebook anymore?”

“Way too many people from our school, apparently.”

“Hey, Stark!” Peter takes a deep breath to quell the profanities running through his head. Ned throws him a somewhat concerned look, but before Peter can explain, a guy appears next to him, (Peter doesn’t even know his name or which grade he’s in) looking at him with a big, mean smile. “Did you already find out about the betting pool?”

“What betting pool?”

“The one about Matthews beating you up before or after lunch today.”

“C’mon, Peter,” Ned mumbles, grabbing his arm and pulling him away. It’s probably a smart choice, because the urge to tell that guy whose name Peter doesn’t even know to shut up had grown exponentially with every word he said.

A part of him tells him he should be concerned about all this anger inside him. A louder part insists that everyone else should stop treating him like this.

“You’re allowed to be pissed, y’know?” Ned says, pulling Peter out of his musings.

For a second, he considers playing dumb. But Ned is his best friend. Besides, he doesn’t even really want to. “No, I’m not. All of this is my fault.”

“Dude-”

“It is! I’m the one who said we should tell everyone-”

“All of this,” Ned waves his hand around to describe the weird chaos that is Peter’s new life, “would’ve happened anyway. You were kidnapped so someone could blackmail Tony Stark, and then the media started these rumors. No one would’ve ignored it.” He pauses for a second and then he adds in a low voice (which makes Peter think his friend doesn’t want him to hear it): “And it probably would’ve been a lot worse that way.”

Ned is right, of course. The situation would have been way different if people believed Tony and Peter have a romantic relationship (Peter is almost gagging just thinking about it), and while the attention he’s getting right now is annoying, it’s still way better than the attention he would get then.

Which, naturally, makes Peter feel even worse. Should he really be acting like this? Shouldn’t he be more grateful that the situation isn’t worse?

No matter what the answer to that question is, Peter knows he won’t like it, so he tries his best to push his worries aside as he steps into the classroom with Ned, entirely unable to block out all the whispers around him.

* * *

After his third period class, Peter encounters the second reason why he’s at school instead of hiding at home with Tony.

“Hey, MJ,” he greets, a small smile on his face and his heart beating in his throat as he steps next to her locker.

“Hi Peter,” she says, stopping as she reaches to get her books for their next class and giving him an even smaller smile.

Yesterday, they talked for nearly two hours on the phone without either one really noticing how much time had passed. It had begun with MJ talking about different charity organizations and asking if he had anything specific in mind, which led to her explaining how she got involved in all of this and Peter sharing some stories about how Tony has absolutely no grasp on what a mundane life is like.

Talking to her the evening before felt different. Maybe because Peter only had to worry about sounding stupid instead of looking stupid, too. Maybe because it was the first time they truly talked with no one else around – not Ned sitting next to them, not in class discussing a project with all their classmates around them, not during Decathlon practice; just them.

It felt different. Peter _wants_ it to have been different.

And he just prays that MJ feels the same way – even just a bit.

“So,” she says, ripping him away from his fond memories of the night before, “how, uh, how was your day?”

“Fine,” he answers automatically (he’s still a bit baffled that she’s apparently making small talk with him – he didn’t know she believed in small talk) and is promptly met with a raised eyebrow that clearly says she doesn’t believe him. One corner of his mouth jumps upwards. “I mean, not fine, but…” Not sure how to end his sentence or even begin to explain what’s running through his mind, Peter only shrugs.

Surprisingly, MJ accepts it. Then her cheeks turn rosy (Peter is hyper aware that it could just be his imagination playing a trick on him, some kind of wishful thinking) and she pulls a sheet of paper out of her backpack. “I wrote down all the places I told you about yesterday. So you don’t, like, forget them or something.”

“Oh, yeah, awesome! Thank you!” Peter smiles, acting like he hadn’t already written down almost every single word she said (partly because he really doesn’t want to forget and partly because it helped him stay calm), and accepts the list. “And thanks again for helping me out.” His heart beat slowly starts to pick up. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

MJ smiles – an actual smile, not a sarcastic one or a smirk – and drops her eyes to her feet, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. The urge to brush some hair behind her other ear grows inside Peter, but to fight it he grips the strap of his backpack a bit tighter. “No problem. I mean, it’s for charity, so obviously I’ll help, but, uh… you’re welcome.”

Peter’s heart is beating in his throat. His mouth is suddenly very dry and his palms are growing sweatier and sweatier. He reminds himself that he once landed a plane while being outside of said plane. He pushed a collapsed warehouse off himself.

He can ask this one question.

Scraping every bit of courage in his body together, he clears his throat, “So, I was wondering if-”

His neck starts to tickle faintly.

“Stark!” A voice booms through the hallways.

Peter stops talking and MJ’s eyes jump to something – someone – behind him. He doesn’t need to turn around to know who is talking to him. A part of him wonders who won the betting pool about Julius Matthews beating him up before lunch.

Hearing every single step, every breath, every heartbeat is the only reason Peter isn’t the least bit surprised when Julius suddenly grabs his shoulder and turns him around with so much force that he stumbles against the lockers.

The fingers around his backpack strap turn white. The carefully written list MJ just gave him starts to crumple in his fist.

“I was talking to you, Stark,” Julius sneers, saying the name in a way that makes it sound like an insult. Julius Matthews looks exactly like any villain of any badly written teenage drama soap you’ve ever seen – only with even more expensive clothes.

Peter grits his teeth but stays silent as Julius continues to push him against the lockers. Julius is strong, yes, but no match for Peter by far. And the urge to push back – against Julius, against all the ones who call him Stark, against everyone whispering behind his back, against _everyone_ and _everything_ – is almost overwhelmingly strong. But Peter knows it would only make everything worse and the last thing he wants right now is even more attention.

“You should listen when I call you,” Julius continues.

“You didn’t call me,” Peter shoots back, because even though a part of him knows he’ll regret it, a louder part tells him to not keep quiet.

Julius’ smile turns malicious. “But aren’t you a Stark?”

“His name is Parker,” MJ throws in, and Peter can see her at the edge of his field of vision. He’s surprised – he can’t tell if it’s because of the fact that she stayed or that she got involved or that she remembers what his name really is.

The surprise is not enough to distract him from the anger.

Julius angles his head towards MJ. “According to the world, he’s a Stark now.” With a smile that reminds Peter of the shark Bruce from Finding Nemo, Julius turns his attention back to him. “Well, a Stark _bastard_ , isn’t that right?”

It would be so easy to break his nose. Just one well placed punch, and that’s it. Barely any effort on his part at all.

Peter doesn’t punch him. Instead, he shoves his hand away and steps out of Julius’ cage of intimidation and broad shoulders. Julius lets him, smile still in place. Where are all the teachers? Or any other students? The hallway seems absolutely deserted even though the next class hasn’t started yet, him and Julius alone.

Almost alone.

MJ shifts next to Peter, throwing him a look asking him what to do. Not necessarily in the sense that she has no idea what to do and needs his guidance, but more like she’s asking him for permission to do something, to get (even more) involved in this. Peter has no doubt that MJ could find a counter argument for whatever Julius says easily – but he still gives her a tiny shake of his head. As happy as he is about having her support, this is his fight, and it’s a fight he’ll probably have to fight for the rest of his life. He has to learn to do this on his own.

Besides, by getting involved MJ will undoubtedly become a new target for Julius, and Peter doesn’t want that. He wants to protect her, not get her into any trouble.

Reminding himself of Tony’s words that he knows the truth and that nothing else matters, Peter starts to walk towards his next class, hoping that ignoring Julius will make him lose interest.

That doesn’t happen.

“Do you know how many others are out there?” he yells from behind them, his voice loud enough that it carries through this hallway to the next. Next to him, he notices MJ hesitating, but she follows his lead when he continues to walk. “I mean, everyone knows what a man-whore your father is. You can’t possibly be the only one.”

It gets more and more difficult to recall Tony’s words. Peter wants to turn around and scream in Julius’ face _so_ _bad_. He’s not even sure what he wants to scream, and a part of him knows it doesn’t even matter – the pressure in his chest is building up, his lungs filling with words fighting to get out of his mouth with every exhale. He’s faintly aware that MJ’s list in his fist is starting to rip.

Peter continues walking.

Julius and his sneers don’t stop, following him on his heel.

“Has he told you to your face yet what a disappointment you are?”

_You’re my son. I love you, and I’m so proud of you. Nothing that anyone says will change that._

“I mean, does a guy like Tony Stark really want a son that’s part of a nerd club instead of a real club, and who stutters his way through every single presentation he has to give?”

Peter reminds himself of all the times Tony helped him prepare for a presentation, telling him about how nervous he was during his own presentations during his first year at MIT and giving him a few tips, and how he celebrated every single win of the AcaDeca team, no matter if Peter gave the most correct answers or not. He reminds himself of Tony telling him stories of his misadventures in the robotics club, and he remembers all the times they enthusiastically watched quiz shows instead of sport games.

Tony is proud of him. No matter what this douchebag says, Peter knows his father is proud of him, just the way he is.

“And now he has to deal with all this drama that you caused, even though he still has to clean up his mess that he made out of the Sokovia Accords.”

A low growl emits from deep in Peter’s chest, and although it’s nearly impossible, he doesn’t turn around. Julius is trying to get a reaction out of him, that’s it. Nothing of what he’s saying will impact him – Peter won’t _allow_ his words to have an impact.

Julius seems to realize that, too.

So he changes his tactic.

“I’ve been thinking about your mother, though.”

Peter stops dead in his tracks. Air refuses to flow back into his lungs.

Everyone in the school knows that Peter’s parents and his uncle are dead. He’s not quite sure how they found out, but it’s a well-known secret. And everyone knows they’re also a topic that is absolutely not to be touched. Even Flash in his meanest and cruelest moments has never once said a word against them.

And now… now Peter doesn’t know how to react. He sees MJ stop, too, her eyes switching from giving him an almost soft look to shooting daggers at Julius.

Julius notices the change in Peter, too – and he takes his shot.

“She must’ve been pretty desperate to get laid,” he goes on, “I mean, everyone knows that Stark will sleep with literally anyone if he’s drunk enough.”

Peter’s patience is hanging by a very thin thread. His nostrils start to flare. Somewhat faded memories of his mother flash across his eyes.

It makes him even angrier.

How _dare_ he say something about her?

“She probably got him drunk in the first place so she could have a shot at him. You know how crazy some people are so they can get their five minutes of fame.” Julius pauses for a dramatic effect. “And judging by your behavior, you clearly got that attention-whoring thing from her.”

_Are you going to let him talk like that?_

Peter can’t hold back anymore. He pounces.

* * *

The more time Tony spends with the car, the more he hates it. He thought he might change his mind, maybe a “don’t judge a book by its cover” situation, but that doesn’t happen.

“I think I’ve never hated a piece of tech as much as this,” Tony says, standing in front of the car in question, hood propped open, and stalling working on it again. Because he knows working on it won’t make him happy. “I even prefer Hammer Industry products over this crap.”

“ _You are being dramatic_ ,” FRIDAY chimes in.

“Absolutely not. You ran the diagnostics yourself – you _know_ how bad it is.”

“ _But you are still working on it_.”

“Yeah, I am,” he sighs deeply, grabbing one of his tools. “The things I do for love.” Tony pauses, thinking for a second. “Is that a quote? I feel like that’s a quote from somewhere.”

_“It is a quote from the very first episode of Game of Thrones, said by Jaime Lannister just before he pushes a child out of the window of a tower to hide his incestuous relationship with his sister.”_

“Wow. I should not say that again. Alright, let’s get started.”

However, Tony doesn’t even get a chance to start working on his least favorite piece of technology that ever existed, because FRIDAY interrupts him with the words: _“Mrs. Graham is trying to reach you.”_

Knowing that his secretary won’t accept a no – because _of course_ she won’t, Pepper carefully selected her from a pool of over one hundred candidates, she wouldn’t choose anyone who can’t make Tony do things – Tony tells his AI to accept the call. There’s a short jingle as the line connects. “Mrs. Graham! What kind of hell broke loose that you have to call me for reinforcements? I thought we all agreed on me staying away from the office for a few days until the world calmed down again.”

“I apologize for the disturbance,” she answers in a professional tone (she’s a lot like Pepper in that regard, but while Pepper’s professionalism always made Tony want to try to break it, to make her mask slip, Mrs. Graham’s professionalism sends a shiver down his spine – not in a good way – and makes him want to finish his tasks even faster), “but the front desk got a call and they were a bit confused what to do, so they redirected it to me to make a decision.”

“And what kind of mystery call is that?” Tony asks, his curiosity piqued. It’s not often that they get a call that nobody knows what to do with – they usually have very clear instructions where to direct calls to, most of the time PR or HR.

“It’s from Midtown School of Science and Technology and they’re calling because of… because of your son.”

“Peter?” Immediately, Tony stands up straight.

“Yes, unless you have any other sons that I’m unaware of.”

Tony is too worried to laugh about her dry humor. “What’s going on? Is he hurt?”

“I wasn’t given any details. All I know is that they tried to reach May Parker, but they couldn’t. You’re not an emergency contact yet, but they tried their luck after your announcement.”

“Thank you, Viviane, I’ll answer the call.” Overcome with worry and nervousness, Tony runs a hand through his hair, wondering what might have happened – and scolding himself for not giving the school any way to contact him in the case of an emergency (and seeing as they’re talking about Peter, an emergency is never _that_ far away).

When he pulls himself together, he gives FRIDAY a signal. “Hello, this is Tony Stark speaking.”

To the other person’s credit, they’re only speechless for about two seconds. “Good day, Mr. Stark, my name is Hazel Edison, I’m part of the administrative staff of Midtown School of Science and Technology. I’m sorry to bother you and your staff like this, but we had no other way of contacting you.”

“It’s fine,” he says, waving his hand through the air as if the woman could actually see that. “Now, can you please tell me why I’m even having the pleasure of speaking with you in the first place?”

Hazel pauses for a second. “Principal Morita would like to speak with you. In person.”

“Why?” Slowly, he starts to get impatient. Can’t she get to the point already?

“Peter and another student have been involved in a fight. Principal Morita would like to discuss the issue with you and the other student’s parent.”

“A fight? Peter?”

“Yes.”

Now, it’s Tony who is speechless. Immediately, a thousand different scenarios start filling his mind – did the other kid attack Peter? Was Peter defending one of his friends? Tony can’t really picture his son being part of a fight, at least not in his civilian identity.

But then again, he’s under a lot of pressure right now, and Tony knows first hand what that can do to a person. It was inevitable that Peter would break under that pressure and act out in one way or the other, but Tony kind of hoped he would last longer than a day and a half.

Worry coils tight in Tony’s chest.

“Mr. Stark? Are you still there?”

“Yes, sorry,” he says, taking a deep breath. “How fast do you need me to be there? If I take my car, I can be there in half an hour, but I could also take my suit. But I have to warn you, it’s quite attention-grabbing, and I don’t know if we really need that right now.”

“Half an hour is fine,” Hazel reassures him. “The other parent has still to arrive.”

“Alright.” And then because Tony can’t just not ask, he adds: “How is Peter?”

For the third time, Tony doesn’t get an immediate answer from the secretary. “He doesn’t need to go to the hospital, and I think some frozen peas will be enough. But he seems very angry.”

Her words do nothing to calm Tony down – quite the contrary, actually. He only starts to worry more, because _angry_ and _Peter_ are not words that mix well. “Thank you. I’ll be there soon, and I’ll prepare a sheet with all of my contact information, so it’ll be easier to reach me next time. Which, you know, hopefully won’t happen.”

Tony has a feeling it will happen a lot more often than he would like.

He barely registers Hazel’s goodbye, his mind already racing. As fast as he can, he takes a shower to get rid of any oil or grease stains on his skin and throws on some clean clothes, choosing more of a business casual look. He thought about picking out his best business suit, but he has no idea what’s waiting for him. Going in with his most intimidating (well, second most intimidating, because his Iron Man suit is in the top spot) suit could backfire.

As soon as Tony throws on a dark blazer over his shirt (not even a graphic tee, he’s looking very grown up, like a parent who has to talk to his kid’s principal because said kid got into a fight should look like), he pockets the list he ordered FRIDAY to prepare, jumps in his most subtle car, and speeds off. Twenty-eight minutes after he hung up on Hazel, Tony parks the car near Midtown High and slips into the building through the secret entrance Peter always uses. Someone must have told the security team that Tony was on his way, because the security guard doesn’t look surprised to see him.

There’s something kind of eerie about walking through a high school corridor when all the students are in class. Or maybe it’s just Tony, who spent literally one single year in High School. However, Tony doesn’t waste a lot of his brain cells on figuring that one out – there are more important things on his mind.

Like trying to figure out what the hell is going on with his kid.

Finding the principal’s office isn’t difficult. A woman who looks like she’s in her late thirties sits in a little office, behind her a door with milky glass that has the words _Principal Morita_ written on them. Tony gives her a small smile. “Hi.” The woman looks up. “I assume we talked on the phone?”

It’s a rhetorical question, because there’s a little plague with _H. Edison_ sitting on the desk.

Hazel blinks at him, like she has to make sure that he’s really here, but she quickly manages to pull herself back together, pointing toward the door behind her. “Yes, of course, Mr. Stark. The other student’s parent just arrived, and everyone else is already in there.”

“Perfect, thank you.”

As Tony walks over to the door, he reminds himself that he has dealt with a lot of stuff in his life, including real (very ugly) aliens, literal gods, and magic. This should be a piece of cake.

Now all he needs to do is believe it.

Repeating his mantra of W.W.P.D. (What Would Pepper Do), Tony knocks against the glass, waiting until he’s invited in for once before opening the door. With a straight back, he walks in, taking in the scene. The man he assumes is Principal Morita sits behind a desk, a picture of professionalism that Pepper would praise. Before his desk are three other people, two to his left and one to his right.

The two to his left are one student and a man Tony assumes is his father. It takes him a second, but he actually recognizes the man. Walter Matthews, who has tried on multiple occasions to start a conversation with Tony during events they were both invited to, but it’s never worked because that man is everything Tony has come to despise about the upper class of society. He’s arrogant, believes himself to be smarter than he really is, looks down on anyone whose paycheck is smaller than his, and most importantly, he thinks that having expensive stuff makes up for having a nasty personality.

The boy next to him must be his son (Tony searches his brain, but no name pops up). A bruise is starting to form on his right cheek, and his hair looks a bit tousled, but Tony can’t see any other traces of a fight. Then again, maybe he’s more used to seeing traces of superhero-fights than school-fights.

Finally, his eyes travel to the last person in the room: Peter. Tony immediately sees how tense he is, almost as if he’s ready to jump up at any second. He’s heavily leaning to one side of his chair, trying to get as much space between him and the other kid as possible. He’s also pressing a cooling pack to his face, but Tony can’t actually see his face yet.

Taking in a subtle breath through his nose, Tony slaps a small smile on his face. “I apologize for my late arrival,” he says, despite the fact that he’s perfectly on time. “I came as soon as I could.”

Morita gives him a short shake of his head as he takes his hand. “No need to apologize, Mr. Stark. Thank you for coming. I’m sure you have a very busy schedule.”

“I’ll make time for this.” And because he decides to be a responsible and respectful adult, he turns around to Matthews to take his hand. “It’s been quite some time, Mr. Matthews.”

“Stark,” he answers in a sharp voice. It doesn’t go unnoticed by Tony that Matthews practically tries to squeeze his hand, but he ignores it. Suddenly, he vividly remembers the time Natasha talked about how to break five bones in someone’s hand by shaking their hand in just the right way.

Tony doesn’t break any bones in Matthews’ hand.

Instead, Tony sits down next to Peter and gets the first good look at his face.

He notices two things immediately: One, Peter isn’t so curled up in himself because he feels guilty – quite the opposite. He’s absolutely _furious_. Even though Peter still refuses to look at Tony, the man sees the fire in his eyes, the scowl on his forehead, the way every single muscle in his body is so incredibly tense, like he has to physically stop himself from jumping at the other boy.

It reminds Tony of the way Peter looked at Steve less than two weeks ago, when Peter was ready to fight a super soldier even though he didn’t have any of his powers.

Tony’s worry grows.

And the other thing he notices are the bruises. Because while Matthews’ kid has only one bruise on his face, there are several bruises shining on Peter’s face – and that’s only what Tony can see, because half of Peter’s face is still covered by that cooling pack.

Logically, Tony knows that Peter has been through way, way worse than this. He also knows that Peter’s healing factor means that he won’t have to cover the bruises with make-up the next morning.

But that logic does nothing to calm down the hot anger that runs through Tony’s entire body like wildfire. Because someone _hurt_ _his kid_! Several times! In that moment, Tony seriously regrets not showing up in his best suit or even in his Iron Man suit, because he wants that kid to deeply regret ever lying a hand on his son.

However, Tony’s already dug his grave and now he has to lie in it (still very aware of his watch that can turn into a gauntlet with just one simple touch. And Natasha’s lectures about snapping bones.).

And maybe if he actually manages to keep his calm, it’ll calm Peter down, too. Because he can’t help himself, Tony puts his hand on Peter’s shoulder, giving it a quick squeeze. He hoped it would lure the boy into looking at him, but Peter stays stubborn, burning a hole into his principal’s cabinet with his glare.

Tony dislikes the entire situation more and more with each second that passes.

Morita clears his throat. “As you have already been informed, Peter and Julius fought.”

“Yes, and that boy will be hearing from my lawyer for this assault,” Matthews sneers.

Tony takes another deep breath through his nose, swallowing down the retort that that’s an empty threat because Tony definitely has a better lawyer team.

Judging by the way Morita schools his face, he has quite some experience with parents acting like this. “I didn’t call you here to discuss legal actions, Mr. Matthews, but to talk about the consequences. Our school doesn’t tolerate violence like this.”

“Peter started it,” the boy – Julius – throws in, pointing an accusing finger at Peter. “He threw the first punch! I had to defend myself!”

_If that’s really true, then why do you have only_ one _bruise on your face while Peter’s is covered?_ Before the words can pass through his lips, Tony reminds himself of what Pepper would do: smile and plan their murder.

“Peter?” Morita asks, turning his attention to the boy in question. “Is that true?”

For a moment, it looks like Peter is going to ignore the question completely, but then his eyes wander from the cabinet to his principal. “Yes,” he mumbles before looking away again.

“Why did you attack him?”

This time, Peter doesn’t answer, stubbornly staring at the cabinet again. Morita turns his attention to Julius. “Why did he attack you?”

“I don’t know,” Julius shrugs, but Tony knows it’s a lie. Not only because he knows Peter doesn’t walk around punching people without being provoked, but also because Julius is a terrible liar. Just like his father. In fact, Tony gets the feeling that Julius is like his father in a lot of ways. “I was just talking to him, trying to start a conversation.”

“And what exactly did you say?” Tony asks, because he can’t hold back anymore.

Under Tony’s attention, Julius seems to cower a bit (and Tony would be lying if he said it’s not the tiniest bit satisfying), but he holds on to his lie. “Nothing! I was just trying to be friendly!”

“Normally when people try to be friendly, it doesn’t end with them getting punched in the face.”

“Are you calling my son a liar, Stark?” Matthews hisses, puffing out his chest as if it would do anything but fill him up with more air.

Tony isn’t the least bit intimidated by him and he refuses to be provoked. If he’s learned any thing from Pepper over all these years, it’s that staying calm can be the best weapon of all. “I’m saying that what we’re hearing and what we’re seeing doesn’t add up. I know my son. Peter doesn’t just walk around hitting people who try to talk to him.”

“Maybe that fame got to his head.”

_Maybe my fist will get to_ your _head._

Tony doesn’t say that, of course. He wants to, but he doesn’t.

However, before the situation can escalate, Morita clears his throat again. “Peter, do you have anything else to say?”

Peter stays silent. Tony squeezes his shoulder again, hoping that it will convey that he isn’t mad at him, but Peter still shakes his head, refusing to do anything that would pull his head out of the noose.

Morita suppresses a sigh. “Alright then. Both of you will be in detention for the rest of the school year, and you’re not allowed to partake in any school activities as well.” It doesn’t sound too bad in Tony’s ears, seeing as the school year is as good as over, only two weeks left.

The Matthews don’t agree.

“But I have training!” Julius throws in.

Morita doesn’t move a single muscle in his face. “You should have thought about that before you got involved in a fight.”

“This is ridiculous!” Matthews yells. “My son is clearly the victim here!” My _son’s face says something different._ “Hasn’t that boy-” he points a finger at Peter, who clearly tries to pretend that he’s somewhere else, “done enough damage already? Just look at the cafeteria and all the paparazzi outside!”

“How is it Peter’s fault that a lunatic decided to threaten school kids?” Tony hisses back, unable to keep his mouth shut. “Did you think he called the guy who _kidnapped_ him to stop by? Or that he told all those reporters who are trying to pester him to camp in front of the school grounds on public property?”

Matthews clearly wants to start a fight, Tony can see it in his eyes. And Tony thinks it’s partly because he, Tony Stark, is sitting here – someone who is more powerful than him in any way possible, and Matthews feels the need to defend his territory. Tony has absolutely no desire to take away his rule over the school, but he won’t let Peter be collateral damage in this fight.

“Your son clearly needs aggression therapy,” Matthews eventually says. “Seeing that he starts throwing punches as soon as someone talks to him.”

Tony’s eye twitches. He leans a bit closer, never before knowing he has this level of restraint. “Maybe your son needs that therapy, seeing that he reacted to being punched once by punching a kid who’s younger than him at least ten times.”

While Julius pales, Matthews’ head turns a deep shade of red. “How dare you-”

“How dare I say that your son tried to beat another student into a bloody pulp? Because I know what it looks like if someone beats you up.” Tony doesn’t say the words _do you want me to show you first hand_?, but they lay heavy on his tongue. However, judging by the way Matthews leans back a little bit and swallows, his eyes clearly delivered the message.

Morita clears his throat again, drawing the attention back to him. “If you don’t have any more questions, this would be everything. You may take your sons home for the rest of the day.”

Without saying a single word, Matthews jumps to his feet, dragging Julius up with him, and storms out of the office. Tony lets go a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, and his eyes wander to Peter again. Even though those assholes left the room, he’s just as tense as before, refusing to be part of this.

Well, this will be a fun ride home.

“Thank you for calling me,” Tony says as he gets to his feet and shakes Morita’s hand.

“Of course.” For a second, Tony thinks the principal might make a comment about Tony Stark being in his office, but instead he looks to Peter who shuffles to his feet as well. “Peter.” Peter doesn’t look up from the ground. “If you don’t talk to me, I can’t help you.” There’s a certain worry in his voice that makes Tony glad Peter has a principal like this, someone who really seems to care about his students.

However, that worry does nothing to make Peter spill what really happened between him and Julius. He lowers the cooling pack from his face and holds it out for Morita to take. “Thank you for giving me this,” he mumbles, immediately turning around and grabbing his backpack, clearly hoping that Tony won’t see the other side of his face.

But Tony does.

And Tony really regrets not being more aggressive earlier. It’s too late now – well, not exactly. He still can (and will) sic his lawyers on them. Maybe start a nasty rumor in the right circles, making sure that Matthews gets kicked out of his favorite country club.

As they leave Morita’s office and are about to leave the school entirely, Hazel stops them. “Mr. Stark?” she calls out as they pass her desk. “Sorry, but you wanted to give me your contact information.”

“Right, of course,” Tony says, remembering the piece of paper in his jacket pocket. In one smooth movement, he pulls it out and unfolds it, pointing to the phone numbers and names written next to them as he goes down that list. “This is my private phone number, this one is for my office here in New York at the Tower, and this one is for my office upstate. There’s a pretty good chance that I won’t answer them myself but my AI FRIDAY, she’s a lovely lady with way better manners. If for any reason I’m not able to answer, these are my fiancée’s numbers, first her private number and then her office number as well. But if she happens to be out of town, too, then you can always call Colonel James Rhodes on his phone – this one – or use this number which is connected to his War Machine-, I mean Iron Patriot suit. This one here is Harold Hogan, going by Happy, my former bodyguard, and if he’s grumpy about stopping by, just remind him that I’m still the one signing his paychecks. Now, if all of these shouldn’t work for any reason, this is my secretary Viviane Graham, you already talked to her this morning, and-”

“Are you going to give her Miss Potts’ assistance’s number, too?” Peter asks in a sarcastic voice, and Tony can practically feel his eye roll.

“You know what? I know that you mean that as a joke to tell me I’m overdoing it, but it’s actually a really good idea. Do you have a pen? His name is-”

“This list is more than sufficient, Mr. Stark. Thank you,” Hazel says with a smile, taking that list before Tony can add even more numbers on it. “I’ll make sure to file it away carefully, so nobody will get a hold of these numbers.”

“Thank you.” And then he has to hurry after Peter, who already started walking again.

They don’t talk while they walk to the car, Tony nudging Peter to go either left or right, simultaneously on the lookout for any reporters that could be lurking around. They would turn into vultures if they found out Tony Stark had to pick up his son after he got into a fight.

As soon as the car doors slam shut, Tony turns to Peter, but the kid turns his head away from him, propping his head up against his hand. “Are you gonna tell me what all of that was about?”

Peter stays silent. His entire body is just as tense and rigid as before, a clear sign that he hasn’t calmed down one bit. Tony is worried and he has no clue what to do. He doesn’t have a lot of experience with an angry Peter and the few times in which he witnessed his anger, it was always exploding, screaming and moving around. He has never been this still, this boiling pressure that makes Tony think of a bomb that is about to go off if you just breathe at it the wrong way.

“I’m talking to you, Peter.”

“You heard the story,” he mumbles, the word getting half lost in his hand. “I was in a fight. I threw the first punch.”

“Yeah, and that little asshole in the making clearly said something to provoke you before he tried to beat you until he saw some blood, so I’m gonna repeat that question: What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“Peter-”

“I just wanna go home,” he says, and he suddenly sounds so… so tired.

Deciding to give in a little bit, Tony starts the car, pulling into the traffic.

It takes Peter five minutes to notice.

“This isn’t the route to Queens,” he points out.

“We’re not going to Queens,” Tony answers, eyes forward.

Now, Peter turns his head around to look at his father. Even out of the corner of his eyes, Tony can see the angry grimace. “I wanna go to Queens.”

“And I want you to answer my questions, but it looks like neither of us will get what we want.” Before Peter can even raise his hand, Tony already shakes his head. “Don’t even try it, bud. The doors are locked. You’re not getting out.”

“I could punch the door out,” Peter challenges.

Tony forces himself to snort in amusement. “Sure, that’d be very subtle. Exactly what we’re going for right now.” Peter seethes, but Tony is not giving in. That’s what all those parenting books say. Be a calming presence and don’t lose your cool. So, that’s exactly what Tony is going to do. And if Peter isn’t talking by the time they reach the Tower… well, the car has enough gas and Tony has a free schedule. He can drive for hours. “Why did you get into a fight?”

For a long moment, it doesn’t look like Peter will answer, and Tony mentally prepares himself for being in the car for a lot longer, when he opens his mouth. “He was just talking shit. Trying to provoke me. And he did it.”

“What did he say?”

“Nothing important.”

“Yeah, sure, as if I would believe that.” Peter switches his strategy back to being silent and looking out of the window. Tony allows it for a moment as thoughts continue to race across his mind, trying to solve this puzzle before him. A thought pops up. “Did he say something about me?” Experience has shown Tony that Peter can ignore most of the things that people say about him, but if someone goes after his loved ones? That’s an entirely different story. And Tony with his past and with the media loving to dig up every single one of his public failures is an easy target. “I told you to not listen to anything they say about me. I mean, honestly, you have to-”

“He talked about my mom!” Peter explodes, stunning Tony into silence. “Okay?! He was talking about Mom and I just lost it!”

Luckily, FRIDAY is installed in all of his cars to literally take the wheel in cases of emergency, because she’s the only reason they don’t crash. Tony swears his heart skips a beat as he continues to stare at Peter in shock. Peter is looking at his knees, his mouth an angry thin line, still full of rage.

And now Tony understands why.

“What did he say?” he asks breathlessly, because that’s the thing crossing his mind – he needs more information.

Peter’s mouth thins even further. “I don’t want to repeat it.”

So, it was bad. Really bad. Before Tony is even aware of it, the anger still resides in Peter starts to take hold of Tony, too. That arrogant brat talking shit about Tony is one thing, but talking about Mary? That’s on an entirely different level.

“I regret staying calm in there,” Tony mumbles because he means it. In hindsight, he should’ve blasted in there in his Iron Man suit, making sure that that kid never ever dares to even think about doing something like that again.

But he can’t change the past, and he has other things to focus on than his own anger: Peter’s anger. Because Tony’s anger clearly pales in comparison to what Peter is feeling.

“Don’t listen to anything he said,” Tony says. “That brat doesn’t know anything, okay? He didn’t know her. Mary-”

“ _You_ didn’t know her either!” Peter yells, turning around to face him. “You met her _once_ and you were _drunk_ out of your mind!”

For a second, they can do nothing but stare at each other. Tony can’t even breathe as he stares into his son’s angry face. Underneath all that fire, he can make out the characteristical Peter Parker guilt, that little spark that shows he knows he said something he shouldn’t have said – but that burning inferno of anger outshines that spark, pushing angry tears in his eyes.

Tony is speechless.

Because Peter is right.

Tony has no business telling Peter who Mary was, because Tony didn’t know her. He’d been absolutely hammered when he met her and even though he tries to convince himself that he does remember his night with her, it’s a lie. Those blurred and fuzzy memories he has could have been with anyone, could have been any night.

Of course, he tried to find out more about Mary after that fateful DNA test. He went over her work, watched her speeches, tried to find footage from the conference in Detroit all those years ago in the hopes of something triggering his memory – but nothing helped. He knows Mary in the same way that anyone who can do a simple Google search knows Mary.

And Peter needs more than that right now. He needs someone to remind him that whatever Julius said to him is as far from the truth as possible. Tony isn’t the right person for that. May is the only one capable of handling this situation, but she’s at work, and Tony knows he has to deal with this situation right now before the thoughts and anger inside Peter twist his memories around or make him believe something that isn’t true.

The tension in the car is so thick, you could cut it with a knife. Peter is at a crossroads with his emotions, either going to explode again or have a complete breakdown, and Tony knows it’s up to him and how he handles the situation to decide the fate of his son’s emotions.

FRIDAY parks the car, tinting the windows a little to give them some privacy. Tony’s left arm is aching, but he suppresses the urge to massage his wrist. “You’re right,” he says into the silence, sniffing once. Peter doesn’t move, his eyes fixed on the building before him, hands balled into tight fists, knuckles turning white. “I didn’t know your mother. Not like you or May do. And I was… _very_ drunk when I met her, which I regret _so_ much. But I know that she was an absolutely brilliant woman, the papers she wrote and the projects she worked on were one of a kind. And I know she was a loving and caring person, because I see it in the way she raised you and I hear it from the stories you and May tell me. I would give anything to meet her properly. And your father, too.”

It was a bit weird calling Richard Peter’s father, but in the sense that it didn’t feel wrong. Yes, Tony might be Peter’s biological father and he’s doing everything he can to be worthy of that title, but he’s not his _only_ father. Richard took over the job of being a father in the first years of Peter’s life (the years Tony failed to show up and take responsibility), teaching him how to read and how to ride a bike and building baking soda and vinegar volcanoes like so many students do for their science fairs at a young age, dyeing the foam in a fun color – Tony saw the pictures. Then there was Ben, who never officially had the title Dad, but who clearly fit that description, guiding Peter through his grief and then life (again, stepping in for Tony when he still had no clue about his responsibility).

Peter doesn’t have one father; he has three. And Tony isn’t too proud to admit that.

Peter takes a deep breath and Tony gently lays a hand on his shoulder, giving him a bit of physical comfort. “Whatever Julius said, it’s not true,” he says in a soft voice. “You know your mother. You know what she was like. And I might not know a lot about her, but I know that she loved you with all of her heart and that she would be so, _so_ proud of you, Peter. Richard and Ben, too.” Peter takes another breath, but this one is a bit shaky. His fists are starting to tremble. “And if it’s worth anything, I’m proud of you, too.”

“I punched someone,” he presses out through his teeth. “I could’ve seriously hurt him if I had been less careful. I could’ve-”

“Hey, hey, look at me.” Slowly, Peter turns his head to Tony, tears welling up in his eyes. Tony gives him a smile, moving his hand from the shoulder to his neck, squeezing it once. “Yes, you slipped up. But you still pulled your punches, stayed aware of your strength, and after that you let him punch you, didn’t you?”

Peter gives him a tentative nod and the fire in the pit of Tony’s stomach telling him he should’ve been more aggressive blazes up again, but he pushes it aside once more.

“You have every right to be angry,” Tony says. “I’m not mad at you for this, okay?” He is pretty sure that all of his parenting books would not recommend the kind of path he’s choosing to go here, but most parenting books also don’t have sections for superpowered kids who suddenly get outed as celebrities’ children and have to deal with assholes insulting their dead mother.

Suddenly, Peter breaks. The angry grimace turns into one of pain, the tears being pushed out of his eyes, and he looks so vulnerable and small that Tony wishes they weren’t sitting in a car so he could hug him properly. Nonetheless, he leans forward, unbuckling his seat belt to hold Peter as close as possible.

“I’m so angry,” Peter says, clearly trying to hold back the sobs but failing at it. “Ever since I walked in the school this morning, and to be honest, since yesterday, too. They all act like they have the right to judge me or like I owe them all these pictures and attention, some pretend like we’re best friends even though they literally never bothered to learn my name before last week. Or when they don’t bother to learn my name at all and just call me Stark. N-Not that I hate being called Stark, but-”

“But you’re a Parker,” Tony interrupts, saving Peter from trying to explain something he doesn’t need to explain. “It’s a part of you and I would never ask you to give that up. And they should definitely bother to learn your name, your _real_ name, because they will be hearing it a lot in the future.” Peter sobs into Tony’s shoulder, and he runs his hand over his back in a soothing gesture. “People forget that famous people are still people. It sucks, and I wish I could tell you that it’ll get better, I really do, but… but it doesn’t. Not really. It comes and goes in waves.”

“I wanna be myself and your son at the same time,” he mumbles. “But they make me feel like I can’t be that. Like I have to give up one of it.”

Tony’s heart breaks a little bit at his words, and Tony would permanently give his right arm to make Peter’s wish come true. But he can’t. Making people mind their own business is a mystery he has yet to solve.

They sit like that for a while, Peter letting out his hurt and anger while Tony just does his best to comfort him. His back is killing him, but he keeps his mouth shut. Nothing an Ibuprofen can’t fix. Eventually, Peter starts to move away from Tony, and they both sit back into their seats.

“Okay?” Tony asks, stopping the words _are you fine?_ in the last second, because he knows there’s no way Peter is actually fine.

Peter nods, wiping over his face with the back of his hand. “Yeah, I’m okay. Thanks.”

“Any time.” Because he doesn’t quite know what else to do, Tony starts the car again. “Back to Queens?”

A beat passes before Peter answers. “May isn’t home yet.”

Over time, Tony has become quite good at understanding what Peter wants by what he’s not saying, either because he’s too shy to actually ask for what he wants or because he thinks he’ll bother someone. It also helps that he’s gotten a tad bit more open with expressing his wishes.

“You can always come back to the Tower with me,” he offers. Peter accepts that offer with a short nod of his head.

* * *

Peter still feels weird. Even though talking to Tony (and crying, yes, that too) did help him calm somewhat down, the anger and hurt didn’t just disappear. They’re still there, sitting in his chest, continuously building up pressure that makes him feel like he’s going to explode.

Just like any human being, he decides there’s only one thing he can do: take a nap. Even though it’s barely noon, he feels strangely exhausted and on top of that unmotivated to tinker in Tony’s lab. All he wants to do is crawl underneath his blanket and feel sorry for himself. Not that he’ll ever tell anyone about that last part. When he announces this, Tony just nods, telling him he’ll be in the lab and Peter can stop by whenever he feels like it.

Peter manages to sleep for about an hour, but it’s restless, and afterwards he doesn’t feel any better than before. The texts Ned sent him aren’t helping, telling him how he’s – once again – the talk of the entire school, and how there are rumors that Peter punched two of Julius’ teeth out and that neither of them will be coming back for the rest of the semester. Peter sends back a quick answer that he’s fine (which isn’t completely true, but he doesn’t want Ned to worry anymore) and that he’ll be back the next day.

MJ also sent him a text, only saying _He’s an asshole_. Peter wants to reply – something funny and witty, something that shows that Julius can’t get under his skin. Which would be completely useless, because she saw Peter losing his cool with her own eyes. Peter can’t really remember correctly because the entire fight had been one giant blur, but he thinks MJ actually tried to get them to stop. He kind of wants to ask her about it, but his fingers freeze over his phone, blatantly refusing to type a single letter.

In the end, it’s hunger that makes him shuffle out of his room, because apparently his fast metabolism doesn’t care about his emotional turmoil. However, when he enters the kitchen, someone is already there. “Oh, Miss Potts.”

Pepper, sitting at the kitchen island with a salad in front of her, smiles at him. “Hello, Peter.”

“Did… did Tony tell you what happened?” he asks, immediately feeling stupid for asking at all. She doesn’t seem surprised to see him in her kitchen, so of course she has to know what happened.

The smile on her face changes a bit. “He did. In fact, he called me in a panic as soon as he got back. He wanted to know if he broke any important parenting rules.” She rolls her eyes in a good natured and almost affectionate way. “I don’t know why he thinks I would know the answer to that. He’s the one who read all those books.” Before he knows it, Peter scoffs, the idea that Tony Stark has read multiple parenting books because of him still bizarre. “How are you feeling, Peter?”

“Okay.” She raises an eyebrow, and Peter folds. “It’s just difficult, you know? All of this, I mean.” He waves his hand around, not knowing how else to describe the entire situation.

Luckily, out of all the people he could’ve talked to, he chose the one who could actually understand what he was going through. “I know what you mean,” Pepper says, inviting Peter to sit next to her with a flick of her wrist. Peter accepts, sitting on a stool at the counter. “When I became CEO, it was always ‘ _former PA of Tony Stark is the new CEO’_. They didn’t even mention my name, probably thinking it would be a waste of time and that someone would replace me in that first month. It took me years of hard work to go from _Tony Stark’s CEO-girlfriend Pepper Potts_ to _CEO Pepper Potts_ , and I still have to fight that battle again and again.”

“I was kinda hoping you would say that this is going to be very easy,” Peter mumbles, already feeling his motivation leave his body.

Pepper chuckles. “Sorry, but it’s not. And I’m sorry you have to go through this. And Tony… Tony doesn’t know what it’s like to not be famous, to be just one of the many that no one cares about. He grew up with cameras watching his every step.” For the first time in his life, Peter can really understand how strenuous that must have been. “But just because he can’t understand what it’s like doesn’t mean he doesn’t care.”

“I know he cares. It’s just…”

“You’re afraid you’re going to hurt his feelings when you say how annoyed of the attention you really are.” Peter nods shyly. “Tony can jump to a lot of conclusions, that’s true. And he also has the tendency to blame himself for every single thing that is happening to the people he loves. All you need to be is open about what is going on. Just like you, he needs the occasional reassurance that not everything is his fault, okay?”

“Yeah, okay. Thank you, Miss Potts.” She gives him a smile and runs a hand through his hair. Her little speech did help to release some of the pressure in his chest, and he feels at least a little bit more optimistic now that he knows he has at least one person who can understand what he’s going through.

“You must be starving,” Pepper says, getting up and getting some left-overs for Peter out of the fridge. He doesn’t even get the chance to protest that he can do it himself because she’s already put the food in the microwave and set a timer. “I’m having a wedding planning afternoon today and I could use a second opinion on some matters. Would you help me out?”

Ever since Pepper and Tony picked an actual date for the wedding – the end of August – the planning got a lot more intense. The CEO takes off two afternoons during the week to prepare for the wedding (or at least she tries to, because there is always one emergency or the other). And ever since Peter first helped her look through wedding dresses, it kind of became their ritual that they would work (or pretend to work) on the planning. Peter sincerely doubts that he’s any help, but Pepper hasn’t told him to stop yet, so she at least enjoys his company, right?

Instead of actually working through Pepper’s wedding binder, they decide they need inspiration and put on some of TLC’s wedding shows. Twenty minutes into it, Tony joins them. Peter doesn’t know if FRIDAY told him about Pepper and Peter watching TV or if it was pure coincidence that he came up here, but Peter isn’t really mad about it. Tony comments on about every single thing, from declaring it’s a terrible idea to saying it’s the best idea ever which prompts Pepper to interject most of the time, reminding him that they won’t get married if he doesn’t behave. Their bickering distracts Peter from the feelings he’s trying to ignore, and it feels domestic, in a sense. Sitting here with his father and his step-mom-to-be watching reality shows.

In the afternoon after her shift, May stops by. Tony must have told her what had happened (of course he told her, Tony and May take the entire co-parenting thing very seriously) and he must also have mentioned that Peter doesn’t want to talk about it, because all she does is give him a big hug and doesn’t ask any questions. Peter can feel his eyes getting wet again as his heart aches, but he doesn’t talk about it. He’s not ready yet.

They spend the rest of the evening cooking which is kind of a big disaster with Tony flamboyantly declaring that he absolutely knows what he’s doing, Pepper sipping on her red wine while telling the story of how Tony tried to make pizza but forgot the pizza in the oven because he went back into his lab and how all the smoke set off the fire alarms, and May trying _not_ to burn anything. In the end, the food doesn’t taste that bad at all, and there’s even enough to satisfy Peter’s fast metabolism.

May and Peter don’t talk about what happened once they’re back at the apartment. Peter is glad that she isn’t pushing the issue, because he’s not quite sure if he can talk about it yet.

The next day at school, a lot less people bother him with requests for pictures or call him Stark. On one hand, Peter is happy that they’re stopping – on the other, he’s really annoyed that it took him punching someone in the face for them to stop. Speaking of someone getting punched in the face (Peter’s own bruises already disappeared and everyone assumes he covered them with concealer. Peter isn’t correcting them), Julius makes an effort to not cross paths with him. Peter isn’t mad about that.

He has a chance to briefly talk with MJ. She made him a new list which he carefully files away immediately. However, before he can muster up the courage to ask her the question he wanted to ask her before Julius interrupted them the day before, she has to go to the AcaDeca meeting. The one Peter isn’t allowed to be part of because of the fight.

All in all, it was a good day. At least a lot better than the day before.

Peter makes it back to Queens without being cornered by any reporters or random citizens recognizing him. However, when he arrives at the apartment complex, there’s a small crowd standing by the curb, swarming around a really nice, slick, black car. Thinking that it might be Tony who wants to check up on him in person and who simply couldn’t stand to be in that car he hates so much again, Peter makes his way upstairs.

He doesn’t notice that the car isn’t an Audi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was the first thing that popped into my head when I was brainstorming for this story, and I kinda love how it turned out. 
> 
> Julius' entire reason for existing (in this story at least) was that I needed someone really mean who wasn't afraid to go after Mary, and after FFH, I'm not sure Flash would have been the right person for that. Especially after finding out that he's Tony's son. 
> 
> If you follow me on tumblr, you probably already know that I'm pretty busy with my life right now. Which means that it'll definitely take me a while to finish the next chapter. A lot of stuff will happen and I wanna make sure to make it as good as I can - so it is entirely possible that it won't actually be finished by the end of the year. Yeah, I know that's basically 3 months away, but I honestly don't know how I find time to even log onto tumblr right now, much less write anything (it's because I'm not sleeping enough, that's why). So, please have a little bit of patience with me! 
> 
> If you enjoyed this chapter, please consider leaving me a comment! They always motivate me so much to keep working on my WIPs!
> 
> Thank you! ❤


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! :)
> 
> I know I said I most likely wouldn't upload this chapter before the next year, but... surprise! Thanks to a substitute teacher who didn't made me feel like I'm useless, I was actually motivated enough to finish this chapter. 
> 
> Just like always, I wanna thank my beta-reader [ghostly-blues](https://ghostly-blues.tumblr.com/) and everyone who commented and left kudos and everything else! ❤
> 
> And now, enjoy finding out whose car it is :)

Peter all but runs up the stairs to the apartment, too impatient to wait for the elevator to arrive. He’s excited to see Tony – he wants to tell him that his day at school had been a lot better, and maybe even apologize for his uncharacteristically angry outburst which had led to Tony stopping by his school.

“I’m home!” he shouts as soon as he’s through the door, kicking his shoes off, not caring where they land, and throwing his backpack next to them.

“Hi, honey,” May answers from the living room. Peter waits not a single second and runs over, turning the corner – and comes to a sudden stop.

It feels like déjà vu, like someone hit repeat on a scene he swore he’s already played out – and yet it’s completely different.

The last time he came home from school, saw an expensive car in front of their apartment building, and realized one of the richest people alive was in his home, he flew to Germany to find alongside his father – which he didn’t know back then, of course.

It’s not Tony waiting in his living room this time.

Standing in front of the wall with all of their photographs (the same wall that caused Happy to come to that fateful realization) and next to May, is no other but Norman Osborn himself.

It’s exactly the same and yet completely different from meeting Tony. Norman has a different aura to him, something that makes you stand up straight and that makes you very aware of what kind of language you’re using, completely different to Tony’s I’m-just-a-normal-dude-with-some-money-and-a-superhero-suit vibe. His clothes aren’t the same, either. While Tony had worn a casual version of a suit, Norman stands before him in an charcoal three piece suit with a deep blue tie, hair slicked back with not a single strand out of place (and not a single sign of bald spot or a receding hairline, which is a very weird detail to notice, Peter realizes), looking like he just stepped out of the article about the most influential people in America.

And yet Peter still feels like this billionaire will also try to come up with a very bad cover story, wink with the wrong eye, reveal the fact that he knows Peter is Spider-Man and then take him abroad to fight some of his friends. Logically, Peter knows it won’t happen (unless Norman wants him to beat up some ordinary billionaires and millionaires), but there’s this tiny voice in his head that tells him he never would have thought Tony would do something like that, too.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Parker,” Norman says, coming closer and extending a hand.

Peter is pretty sure that the only reason he’s actually somewhat functioning right now is because he’s been spending time with Pepper Potts, and she kind of showed him how to handle stressful situations professionally just by him being in the next room while she dealt with one crisis or another on the phone. “Likewise, Mr. Osborn,” Peter answers, shaking his hand, careful not to squeeze too much.

May standing behind Norman, mouths a silent _What the fuck_?

Yeah, what the fuck?

“I’m sorry to stop by unannounced,” Norman explains, and if he’s aware of May and Peter having a silent conversation (he would have to be very stupid to not notice it, and Peter knows that Norman Osborn isn’t stupid) he’s not mentioning it, “but I had no other way of contacting you. Tony’s made it quite impossible to get any information about you.”

“It’s fine,” Peter says, because, honestly? What else is he supposed to say? “Uh, may I ask why you’re here, Mr. Osborn?”

Norman gives him a small, almost sad smile as he clasps his hands behind his back. “I haven’t been keeping track of the promises I made.” Before Peter can ask what he’s talking about, Norman continues. “Are you aware that your parents used to work for me?” Peter nods. That was partly the reason why he’d been so excited for his field trip to OsCorp. “Your parents and I used to be close. We started growing apart only weeks before you were born, due to them becoming and being parents and me becoming a lot busier.”

Peter knew that. He’d seen the wedding pictures thousands and thousands of times, and he was so in awe that Norman Osborn himself had been in a couple of them. Mary and Richard had to answer countless questions about the man, from what he’s like to how they met and if he’s stopping by and if Peter would ever work for him, too. His obsession had kind of faded away once he’d discovered a certain person named Tony Stark, but it never truly went away (not that he ever told his father about it, he would straight up tell the press that the press conference had been a joke).

“At their wedding, I promised them to make sure that you – and your family – will always be looked after, should something happen to them.” Now, the slightly sad smile turns into a full sad smile. “Of course, back then I didn’t think something would actually happen to them. And to my shame I have to admit that I lost track of that promise. But then, the media took quite a liking to you.”

“Because of the kidnapping video,” Peter says. His eyes fly to May, silently trying to find out if Norman is telling the truth or if he’s simply spinning some tale to hide some ulterior motive. But the expression on May’s face lets him know that Norman isn’t lying.

“Yes, but your heroic act in the cafeteria actually got my attention first.” Norman looks him up and down once. “You look a lot like Mary. And when I made the connection, I remembered the promise I failed to keep.”

Peter blinks. “Okay.” Norman keeps looking at him, but Peter’s brain doesn’t provide any helpful options. “I, uh, don’t really know what to say. I mean, it’s super nice of you to stop by and tell me about that promise, but… we’re fine.”

Well, as fine as they can be with Peter being outed as a superhero’s son while being a superhero himself.

“I don’t doubt that,” Norman chuckles. “Tony loves to spoil the people around him. No, I’m very aware that you both have all possible access to help if you ever need it.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Because I thought you might like to find out more about your parents’ work.”

A shiver runs down Peter’s spine – not in the way his spidey sense would warn him about any danger, but in genuine excitement. His parents’ work has always interested him, and he tried to get his hands on as much information as he could, considering that many of their stuff isn’t available to the public because of OsCorp’s strict security protocols. May and Ben tried their best to answer his questions, but they only knew about the general direction of their projects, that it was something about biochemistry and genetic engineering. It was never enough to satisfy Peter’s curiosity.

And now, when the world is trying to twist his identity around, this opportunity almost seems like it’s too good to be true.

Almost like it’s a trap.

But Peter simply can’t say no to this. Not right now. Not ever.

“I would love that, Mr. Osborn,” he says, unable to keep the grin from spreading across his face. “Thank you so much for that offer!”

“Of course,” the man answers, smiling himself. “I know that any attempt to steer you away from Stark Industries to OsCorp is most likely fruitless, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t have that opportunity. You deserve it. Your parents were remarkable people, and their work was groundbreaking.”

Pride swells up in Peter’s chest and his nose starts to tingle with unshed tears. For once, not because he’s sad or frustrated but because he’s so happy and proud and excited. He’s been dreaming of something like this for years! Not trusting himself to get something intelligent out of his own mouth, Peter simply nods.

Norman reaches inside his jacket and pulls out an envelope, holding it out for Peter to take. The paper is thick and ivory, the words _Mr. Parker_ written in curvy letters on the front. “It’s an invitation to a gala this Saturday,” he explains. “You’re absolutely welcome to come and bring someone with you. I will make some time to give you a brief tour of the company and your parents’ old labs, and then we can schedule another meeting. If you’d like to, of course.”

“Thank you,” Peter says, voice thick with emotions, eyes still trained on the closed envelope. It kind of feels like the golden ticket for the Willy Wonka factory. Peter ignores the voice at the back of his head that tells him that story didn’t end well for most of the kids.

The billionaire waves a hand around dismissively. “Please. It would be an honor to show you around. It’s the least I can do to make up for my mistake.” Norman gives him another smile before he half-turns, a clear sign of including May back into the conversation. “I don’t want to take up any more of your time. Thank you for your hospitality, Mrs. Parker. And thank you for listening to me, Mr. Parker.”

Peter hears himself mumble something that could have been a _thank you, good bye_ , but his brain isn’t completely up to speed yet, still hung up about the fact that he’ll get the opportunity to connect with his parents and find out about their work. He follows May to the door as she sees Norman off, and both of them look out of the window, watching Norman get into the car and being driven away.

A moment of silence stretches between them, the soft ticking from the clock under the TV unnaturally loud.

“That really happened, right?” Peter eventually says, running a thumb over the envelope as if to make sure that it’s actually real. “Norman Osborn himself turned up on our doorstep and invited me to Mom’s and Dad’s old lab?”

“Well, either it was real or a shared hallucination,” May deadpans, still staring out of the window. There’s a small wrinkle between her eyebrows, but Peter’s brain is still too frozen to interpret it. “By the way, if billionaires stopping by to invite you to stuff becomes a regular thing, I would like to know.”

“It’s only happened, like, twice.”

“And that’s two times more than I ever dreamt of.”

Peter can feel the chuckle building up in his throat, but it doesn’t escape, the sheer absurdity of the situation still numbing him. “That was crazy.”

May shrugs. “Yeah, but Tony showing up at the apartment out of nowhere was weirder. We have at least some connection to Osborn.” Peter gives her a look. She rolls her eyes. “A connection we were aware of.”

His eyes fall on the envelope in his hands. He’s torn between opening (half-expecting the card on the inside to simply read _Kidding_!) and not opening it. “This is crazy,” Peter repeats, walking over to the couch on autopilot and falling down on it, eyes still on the closed envelope. “I can see their lab _and_ I’ve been invited to a gala by Norman Osborn himself.”

“I doubt it’s the only invitation you’ll get,” she says as she sits down next to him. And then, completely out of nowhere (in Peter’s opinion, at least), she adds: “You could ask Michelle if she wants to come.”

“What?” Peter can feel his face heating up, completely speechless for a moment while May simply grins like a Cheshire cat. “W-Why would you even say that?”

“Oh, c’mon, I know you. And our walls are pretty thin.”

For a second, Peter thinks about playing dumb or coming up with an excuse, but he knows it’s pointless. And there may be a tiny, tiny part of him that doesn’t want to lie and pretend May isn’t right. “You heard the phone call.”

“I heard the phone call.” Peter groans deeply which makes May giggle. To distract himself, he reaches inside the candy bowl on the table and pops some chocolate inside his mouth. This only makes her laugh more. “Don’t be like that. I think it’s cute.”

“Yeah, well…” He can’t think of a good argument. “Nobody asked you.” Which, of course, has May laughing again. “And it’s a terrible idea.”

“What? You don’t think taking her to one of the most exclusive events in the city on your first date is a good idea?”

“No, I absolutely don’t.” However, as soon as those words leave his mouth, Peter actually thinks about it. “Although, I guess she would really enjoy asking all these elitist people uncomfortable questions.”

In fact, he thinks MJ would love it. Walking around some fancy dressed people who could solve most of the world’s problems with all their wealth and asking them why they aren’t doing it? That’s right up her alley, if her love to ask their teachers uncomfortable questions is anything to go by. And it’s not like they could just avoid answering her or be rude to her with the cameras around – at least, he assumes cameras will be there.

That doesn’t mean Peter will ask her to come with him to the gala though. First of all, he needs to find the courage to ask her out in the first place. Plus, he’s not sure a gala is really the best idea for a first date. You’re supposed to start with something casual, right? A gala is a lot of things, but not casual. Besides, what would they do for a second date? How can you top a gala? 

“I’m sure she would,” May says, pulling him out of his thoughts. “However, I would actually prefer it if Tony would go with you.”

Peter raises an eyebrow. “Because he would make sure I won’t do anything stupid?”

“If I wanted to make sure you don’t do anything stupid, I would ask Pepper to look after you.” Peter can’t argue with that. “No, because Tony knows events like that better than anyone else. And he has absolutely no problem with pulling out the big guns – literally – when he has a feeling you might be in danger.”

Peter freezes in the middle of taking another chocolate, looking over to his aunt. It’s not only her words that worry him, but her tone as well. Because she sounds like the possibility of something happening to him other than making an absolute fool out of himself is not that unlikely.

Given that the last time he had anything to do with Norman and his company resulted in him becoming a superhero, her worry might not be that unfounded.

But somehow, Peter thinks she’s not worried about him getting bitten by another radioactive bug.

“What do you mean?”

May waves a hand dismissively. “Oh, nothing. You know how parents are, they always worry.”

“Yeah, about their kids not behaving well or getting hurt, but they usually don’t suggest sending a literal superhero with them to keep them safe.”

“Well, considering what happened to you not too long ago, I don’t think it’s that unreasonable.”

“May,” Peter says, turning his body towards her. A knot forms in the pit of his stomach, which only tightens when she refuses to meet his eyes. “Is there something I should know before going to that thing?”

While Peter is unable to completely lie to May, he is getting better and better at sniffing out her lies, thanks to his sharp senses. And she knows it, which is why she doesn’t try to come up with a lie right now. “It’s probably nothing,” she says with a shake of her head.

“So, there _is_ something.”

“I don’t know Osborn,” May starts, eyes drifting to that one special wedding picture that changed Peter’s entire life, “and I might be completely wrong about this.”

“But?”

Slowly, May looks from the picture back to Peter, eyes filled with a kind of worry he doesn’t see too often. “Not too long before their accident, Mary and Richard talked about quitting their jobs at OsCorp. And as far as I know, Osborn had a lot to do with it.”

For a second, all Peter can do is blink. He didn’t know that. All he can remember is them loving their job, and he never pictured them not being happy there. On the other side, not many parents tell their nearly six-year-old kid about not liking their job or boss.

“You think he might be up to something?” Peter asks. To be honest, it’s not that far-fetched. After all, that man did have some radioactive spiders in his building that were probably the result of an illegal project. At least that what Tony always says.

“I really don’t know, Peter,” May sighs, suddenly looking at least ten years older. “Maybe. Or maybe Tony is simply rubbing off on me and I start getting paranoid, too.”

“According to Tony, being paranoid isn’t that bad.”

“Only someone like Tony can say that.”

“Probably.” Another thing occurs to Peter – something that, honestly, he should have realized a few minutes ago. “I have to tell him about this, don’t I?”

“If you don’t, I will.”

Peter groans, but it’s drowned in May’s laughter. It’s not like Peter doesn’t think Tony should know about what just happened – he absolutely should, but he has the feeling that his father will try to forbid him from ever going near Norman again. Which would mean that he wouldn’t find out more about his parents’ work. And right now, with everyone around him focused on Peter being part Stark, he desperately needs something to remind him that he can feel proud of being a Parker.

With a sigh, he resigns himself to the thought that there will most definitely be an argument about this and takes another piece of chocolate.

May ruffles his hair. “Hey, it won’t be that bad.” Peter looks at her, absolutely not believing her. Once again, his aunt has a hard time suppressing her smile – or maybe she’s just not trying very hard. “C’mon now. You start on your homework, I’ll make dinner, and afterwards you can go patrolling and call Tony. Sounds like a plan?”

Almost two hours later, Spider-Man is swinging through Queens, trailing a car thief – but if he’s completely honest, he’s not really focused on the thief (that guy isn’t doing a good job anyway, the police already noticed him, and he’s a terrible driver). Instead, he’s talking to Ned, telling him about what happened when he came home from school.

Ned’s response had been kind of predictable.

“Dude! I can’t believe you’ve met Norman Osborn! That’s so crazy!”

But that doesn’t mean Peter doesn’t find comfort in it.

“May started joking that Justin Hammer will appear at our doorstep next,” Peter says, lazily shooting another web.

“But is he even a billionaire? I mean, after the entire Expo thing, his company did really bad.”

“To be honest, I don’t think Tony would let him get anywhere near Queens.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” A picture of the Iron Man suits carrying Justin Hammer away whenever he comes too close to Queens pops up in his head, but before Peter can share that thought with Ned, he’s already talking. “And you get to see your parents’ lab and work.”

Ned knows how important that is to him. After all, he helped Peter in his search to find out as much as they could about it, which had turned out pretty unsuccessful. However, the joy he feels at that prospect is shorted-lived. “If Tony lets me, that is.”

“Of course, he will. He _has_ to!”

“Not if he thinks it might put me into danger. And if all his rants are anything to go by, he thinks just looking at a picture of Osborn is putting me in danger,” Peter pouts, picking up speed as the car thief eventually figures out how to properly drive and puts more and more distance between him and the police cars, heading towards the Queensboro Bridge.

“You’re exaggerating.”

“Dude. It’s _Tony Stark_.” Ned mumbles something that sounds like _yeah, you’re right_. “And after the entire thing with Barrett, he’s super careful.”

“Well, you can’t really blame him for it, can you? I mean, we were all scared shitless.”

“Believe me, I know that,” he says, making a sharp turn to avoid colliding with a pigeon, eyes still on the car. “And it’s not like I don’t appreciate him trying to keep me safe, but…”

“… but you still want to see their labs.”

Peter sighs, unbelievably grateful that Ned knows him this well. “They were my parents.”

“Hey, I’m not judging. I would do the same,” Ned is quick to say, picking up on Peter’s aggressive tone and trying to pacify him. It helps a little bit with the burning anger that had flamed up in his chest. “But if you talk to him, maybe try to keep in mind that he doesn’t do it because he wants to ruin your life or anything.”

“I wouldn’t say something like that.”

“Dude. You can be just as dramatic as him. I think that trait might be hereditary in the Stark bloodline or something.”

Peter rolls his eyes as the car thief gets cornered by a different police car, just before the Queensboro Bridge. He keeps swinging, knowing it’ll be easier to just naturally run out of speed over the water instead of making a sharp turn or sticking to a wall. Besides, swinging over the water with his feet barely grazing the surface is fun. And he feels like he deserves some fun.

“I know he’s not trying to ruin my life,” Peter argues, swinging underneath the bridge, “but it’s just-”

“ _Peter, watch out!”_

Both Karen’s warning and his spidey sense are too late – Peter barely has time to realize it’s a bird that’s coming his way before it collides with his face. Hard. He’s so surprised by it he lets go of his web, falling into the water underneath him.

The second he hits the surface, Peter is reminded of a different time he fell into water while wearing the suit. At once, the panic sets in as his body remembers what it was like to fall into that lake, the parachute tangling around his legs, pulling him deeper and deeper into the water as the liquid seeps through his mask and into his mouth, choking him, blocking his airways, drowning him –

…

There’s no water soaking through his mask.

That fact confuses him so much, it actually manages to pull Peter out of his panic. He’s somewhat aware that Ned is still talking two miles a minute as well as Karen (a bit calmer, but still panicky for the AI’s standard), but he can’t concentrate on that right now. Peter knows he’s under water, he can feel it, can feel how the suit soaks up all the water, slowly starting to pull him down.

But not his face.

The wetness stops about halfway of his neck, a pretty clean cut. Still confused, Peter opens his eyes, but all he sees is the darkness of the water around him.

His lungs start to burn, and before he’s even fully aware of it, he takes a breath. Immediately, he realizes his mistake, fully expecting to swallow way too much water – but yet again, it doesn’t happen. All he does is breathe in air.

What the fuck?

“Peter?” Ned’s panicky words break him out of his trance. “Peter? Are you still there or are you, like, … dead? Oh, please don’t be dead! You can’t do that to me! Like, do you know how often I thought you would die in this past year? Or this past _month_?! I didn’t sign up for that! … If you’re alive, please don’t stop being my friend because I said this. But also, like unironically, can you please stop with these near-death experiences? Because, like, I think I’m starting to get gray hairs from it already and-”

Peter manages to swim to the surface, heading into the shadows of the pillars of the bridge for some privacy, hoping that nobody filmed how Spider-Man almost got knocked out by a bird. “I’m fine,” he says, cutting off Ned’s rambling.

He can basically feel all the anxiety dropping from Ned’s shoulders. “Dude! That wasn’t funny!”

“Believe me, I know.”

“What happened?”

“A bird flew into me and I fell into the river.”

“Like that time at Liz’s party? Did you almost drown again?”

“That’s the weird part, I didn’t.” As soon as Peter reaches the pillar, he pulls himself out of the water, climbing up far enough that he’s sure nobody will see him, and sticks to it, feet and back against the stone. There’s something trickling down from his nose (blood, most likely), but Peter pays it no attention. “Hey, Karen, did Tony install any new features into my suit? Something that has to do with going underwater?”

“ _He did not_ ,” the AI says, sounding a tad concerned. It does nothing to calm Peter down.

“Are you sure?”

_“I just checked the protocols again. The last update that got installed into the suit was the photography option.”_

“Can you please tell me what’s going on?” Ned asks. “Because I feel like I’m missing out on something big.”

The blood tickles Peter’s nose, causing him to sniff once. “So, when I fell into the lake at Liz’s party, the water immediately went through my mask and everything – I mean, the suit is awesome, but still basically spandex, so not that surprising.”

“I bet once Mr. Stark has figured out how to make the nanobots work, he’ll make a fancy, shiny nanobot suit and then it won’t let any water through.”

“Can we please stay on the original topic?”

“Yeah, sorry. Continue.”

Peter rolls his eyes and sniffs once more. “But this time, it was different. The suit still soaked up all the water, but not my mask. It was… almost like there was a bubble around it or something. And I could actually breathe.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I forgot that I was underwater and shouldn’t breathe in, but I did, and I didn’t swallow half of the river.”

“Dude…”

There’s no follow up. Ned is silent.

Which is never good.

Peter stiffens, this time ignoring the blood running out of his nose. “Ned? You’re quiet. Why are you this quiet?”

“I just need to look something up.”

“Ned?”

Instead of getting an answer, Peter only hears the clicking of a keyboard. Trying to calm himself down, he listens to the cars and people above him – anything to take his mind off of this mystery.

It works somewhat well until Ned speaks again. “So… I think I found something.”

“Dude, you’re not giving me a lot of hope here.”

“Well, if it’s any consolation, I don’t think you’re, like, dying.”

“That’s no consolation.”

“Remember when we talked about spiders in our Biology class in sixth grade?”

Peter searches his brain. He did quite some research on spiders after the spider bite, but he has no memory of really learning a lot about them before then. “No.”

“Oh… That might have been during the time when you broke your arm and weren’t in school. Anyway, Mr. Garcia told us about all these different spiders and that some of them have really cool abilities. And there’s this one spider who basically lives underwater.”

“You’re kidding,” Peter says (or more like hopes).

“ _He is not_ ,” Karen chimes up, pulling up an article about a spider called argyroneta aquatica up. “ _The argyroneta aquatica, also referred to as diving bell spider, can trap a thin layer of air with its hair around its breathing pores.”_

Peter is so shocked, he can’t even blink. “That can’t be true.”

_“The scientific article I found seems to be-”_

“No, not the article. I’m talking about me having this ability.”

“Are you completely sure?” Ned asks, and Peter can hear him clicking away on his computer, probably looking up more facts about the spider. “I mean, maybe it just works when you think you’re in danger or something?”

“Remember how I literally almost drowned? The thing you reminded me about less than two minutes ago? If it only works when I’m in danger, why didn’t it work back then?” Ned doesn’t have an answer to that. “Besides, if it works with hair, why is it working when I’m wearing my mask?”

“But doesn’t the entire _sticking to everything_ thing also works because of your hair? And you can always stick to anything, no matter if your feet and hands are covered.”

Peter doesn’t have a good answer for that – which troubles him a lot. He’s absolutely sure that he couldn’t trap air around his head before. And even though that is a very cool and very useful thing to have, it’s still very concerning. He shouldn’t have this power.

And he gets the feeling that it’s absolutely not fine to suddenly develop a new power after he’s been hit by two different alien energies – that are _still_ in his body.

The blood from his nose is reaching his upper lip. Frustrated and needing to do _something_ – even if it’s not related to the _new powers_ problem – Peter pulls up the mask over his nose and wipes away the blood with the back of the hand.

The second his eyes fall on his blood-streaked hand, his entire body freezes. “Shit.”

“What? What’s going on?”

“Karen, take a picture of this and send it to Ned, please,” Peter says in an almost robotic voice, unable to tear his eyes away from his hand.

Only a second later, Ned has the picture. “What’s that?”

“That’s my blood.”

“But it looks-”

“It looks purple, yeah.” Peter moves his hand around, thinking that it might just be the light catching it in a weird way. But it’s no use – instead of being a deep scarlet, it’s a rich purple, standing out against the iconic red material from his suit.

“Hold on, I need to look something up,” Ned eventually says.

“More spider facts?”

“Maybe.”

“You really make me regret missing that class from Mr. Garcia.”

Ned doesn’t answer immediately. “So, uh… are you sitting down?”

“I’m sticking to the Queensboro Bridge.”

“But, like, you’re not gonna fall down when I tell you something, right?”

“Ned, can you just-”

“Spiders have blue blood,” he blurs out. “And red and blue together makes…”

“Purple,” Peter finishes with a dry throat.

For a second, neither of them says anything. Even Karen is silent. The bewilderment Peter felt only moments ago turns into real worry.

This is not good.

“Peter?” Ned says, every ounce of humor or lightheartedness gone from his voice. “I think you should go talk to your father. Like, _right now_.”

“Yeah,” Peter agrees, pulling his mask down and shooting a web to the bridge. “Yeah, I’m gonna swing over there right now.”

* * *

_“Boss, you have a visitor.”_

“I’m busy,” Tony says, staring at his holo-screen. He had a sudden flash of genius for a new product for SI, and as it is so often, once he has an idea, he has to work on it. He doesn’t make the rules for this, it’s just the way it is.

_“Your visitor is already in the penthouse.”_

“What?” he asks, looking up FRIDAY’s nearest camera. “Who is it?”

_“Secretary Ross.”_

That can’t be good. Setting his work aside, Tony leaves his lab and enters the living room where Ross is already waiting for him, dressed in his usual military attire, looking as unamused as always. There are a lot of things Tony would rather do than whatever is about to follow – including having to sit through a Justin Hammer presentation without saying a single word.

“Mr. Secretary,” Tony greets him, causing the man to turn around and look at him. “What a surprise to see you here. I can’t remember inviting you.”

“It’s because you didn’t.”

“Ah, right. And, of course, you decided to stop by regardless.” Tony tilts his head. “One could call that rude.”

“Not if they knew how rude you’re being.”

“I told you I like to watch the line blink.”

“Stark,” Ross says, making it sound like a warning (which in turn makes Tony want to act up even more – hasn’t Ross figured that one out yet?), “let’s cut to the chase.”

“I think that’s the first thing you said I can agree with.”

“You helped Rogers, Wilson, and Romanoff get away.”

Tony isn’t going to answer. Ever since the Rogues appeared in Peter’s cafeteria, Ross had constantly been trying to get a hold of Tony, but seeing as he had far more important things to do, Tony always ignored his calls, having his trusty AI come up with excuses why he can’t answer the phone. To be honest, he’d been wondering when Ross would lose his patience with him.

The answer, apparently, is now.

Which doesn’t mean that Tony is going to be cooperative.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Ross narrows his eyes. “I thought we agreed to cut to the chase.”

He shrugs. “We did. And I don’t know how you came up with the idea that they were even there in the first place. Wasn’t the warehouse completely empty when you arrived? With no security footage whatsoever?”

“I have sources.”

“Care to share them?”

Ross stays quiet, which either means he has no sources at all and took an educated guess or he’s got some kind of ace up his sleeve that he doesn’t want to show yet. Tony really hopes it’s the first option, but he has a feeling it’s the latter one.

The Secretary of State crosses his arms behind his back. “I know that you’ve been pretty busy with revealing to the entire world that you have a son.” Tony can feel a growl building up in his throat, but before he can spit out that _it hadn’t been his decision_ , Ross is already continuing. “And your son is quite something, isn’t he? Such amazing grades and so brave… Peter seems to take after you.”

The growl in his throat is rising up as Tony glares at Ross.

Ross’ lips pull upwards, clearly pleased with himself that he riled Tony up. “What? Did you really think I wouldn’t find out who that boy is? Please. I know we don’t agree on a lot of things, but I would’ve thought you’d have more faith in me.”

“What do you want, Ross?” Tony growls, fantasizing about what it would be like to turn his watch into the Iron Man glove and blow that man out of the nearest window.

“I want for you to finally be cooperative,” he snarls back, clearly happy that he got Tony’s full attention. “Like you were supposed to be.”

“When I said I would help you locking everyone up on that monstrosity you call a prison.”

“The Raft is necessary. A normal prison would never be able to hold them.”

“The Raft is inhumane,” Tony spits, the images of his former teammates (his _friends_ ) locked away, Wanda tied up like an animal. “That wasn’t in the Accords. And I will fight to my last breath to make sure that it will _never_ be part of the Accords.”

“Of course, you will,” Ross says with a shrug. “Considering that your little protégé would end up on the Raft.”

The blood in Tony’s veins freezes.

Ross smirks. “Spider-Man is a lawless vigilante. He hasn’t signed the Accords.”

“He’s _helping_ people,” Tony presses out through clenched teeth.

“He’s being self-righteous. Just like Rogers and everyone who was with him has been. Tell me, why shouldn’t I put Spider-Man on the Raft? What’s the difference between him and Rogers?”

Tony wasn’t aware that he has this level of self-restraint. All he wants to do is make Ross shut up, to put as much distance between him and Peter as possible, to make sure that Ross can never _ever_ hurt him, no matter what Tony needs to do to make that come true.

However, he doesn’t move a single finger.

Tony has no idea if Ross has already made the connection between Peter and Spider-Man or if he’s simply trying to attack him on all the fronts that make him vulnerable, but the man has proven again and again not to be underestimated, to be way more cunning that Tony would like. And Tony would rather cut his hands off with a butter knife than give Ross any clue who might be under that iconic red mask with the giant white eyes by saying the wrong thing.

“You have to catch him first,” Tony says, hyper-aware of his words and what Ross might get out of them, “and from first hand experience, I can tell you that he can be quite slippery if he wants to be.”

Judging by the smirk that appears on the secretary’s face, he said exactly what Ross wanted to hear. “Oh, believe me, I know that. But I recruited some help.”

A shiver runs down Tony’s spine. “Who?”

“Norman Osborn offered his help.”

Tony doesn’t like that at all. “Osborn? I don’t see how he could be helpful.”

Ross scoffs, clearly amused by his defensiveness. “Please, Stark, don’t play dumb. We both know OsCorp is the leading research facility when it comes to genetics and mutations. There’s no one better to help me catch someone like Spider-Man. Besides, he was quite convinced that he has information that would help me.”

Oh, he would be very interested in hearing that information, but he knows he wouldn’t get any answers to that. “What do you want, Ross?” Tony spits out again.

“Like I said: I want you to be cooperative. If you aren’t… well, it’s my duty to keep the citizens safe from any independently acting vigilantes. It would be a shame if something would happen to somebody. Especially to young, promising teenagers on their way back from school.”

Before Tony can pounce at Ross to rip his head off, his watch vibrates, sending him an alert. Peter just entered his room through the hatch they built into his window.

_Fuck_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What? Me ending this story with a cliffhanger like this? 
> 
> Absolutely. 
> 
> I know this is a weird way to end a story, but this is more like a prologue for the next part. Dr. Stark Junior was always supposed to focus on Peter's new fame, and while that will play a part in the next story, it's not the main plot. 
> 
> If you have a spare minute and enjoyed the story, please leave me a comment! They really motivate me to keep writing, you have no idea. And I would also love hear what you think what's going on :)
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! ❤


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